


my heart a sacred word

by Imagineitdear



Series: The Omega Protection Act [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: ...i mean Helen, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Domestic Fluff, Dystopia, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Human Experimentation, I'll add tags as we go, Internet Famous, Interview with Ellen, Kinda, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Bucky Barnes, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Social Justice, Social Media, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Therapy, domestic angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-07-15 12:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagineitdear/pseuds/Imagineitdear
Summary: [Excerpt from thehelenshow, watch more content on https://www.helentube.com]Helen: It might help, for people to hear what it’s like. Most betas and alphas, myself included, don’t have a clue.Bucky: It’s--well, like. Getting stripped of who you are. At omega houses they take away everything from you but your designation, and then force you to swallow their prescribed idea of what that means. So...hell. It’s like hell, I guess.





	1. my heart a stalling promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very-belated sequel to [my heart a pandora box](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9246029/chapters/20963717#workskin). Mature themes abound so mind the tags, ladies and gents. Bucky's mind is less of a mine field this go around at least. Though it's been A WHILE since I posted the first, this one is set only about 4 months later. Get ready for pregnant!Bucky!...and more angst. Come on, you can't be surprised. Happy conclusion, though, I promise!
> 
> Key to my obscene amount of acronyms:  
> DPF - U.S. Federal Department of Population and Fertility  
> ORF - Omega Residential Facility  
> OPA - Omega Protection Act  
> IPAH - I Present As Human Non-Profit Organization  
> FMS - Federal Mating Services
> 
> Did I miss any? Haha just let me know!

**[Excerpt from thehelenshow, watch more content on https://www.helentube.com]**

 

**Helen: Let’s start with this - for those of us still wondering, what exactly does 'BadAO' mean?**

 

**Steve: I’m still trying to figure that out.**

 

**Helen: Guesses?**

 

**Steve: We’re a power couple--**

 

**Bucky: We’ve both got bad asses.**

 

**(Crowd erupts into cheers)**

 

**Helen: I won’t argue with either of those. So you two met, _not_ a few months ago right?**

 

**Steve: Right.**

 

**Bucky: Sorta.**

 

**Helen: It’d been a while, huh?**

 

**Bucky: Yeah. Felt like a lifetime.**

* * *

 

“So how was it?” his mate asks as Bucky ducks into the cab.

 

Steve Rogers is blond and beautiful and taking up half the backseat as usual. There’s a streak of pink paint right next to his ear, Bucky notices after he’s shut the door. A common sight the past few weeks.

 

“Good,” Buck says and, no surprise, Steve gives him ‘a look.’ One he’d been a little scared of still, even a few months ago.

 

But it’s been more than six months now of Steve’s furrowed brow and sidelong glances--contrasted by his loving touches, sunshine smiles and earnest goodness.

 

“That’s good,” Steve says, clearly unsatisfied, and Bucky waits for him to say more. The alpha opens his mouth but catches himself. He shuts it resolutely and smiles, nodding.

 

He’s been practicing.

 

Bucky probably will tell him more, at some point, but it’s nice to not feel pressured into it. Especially in the backseat of a cab on the way to _another_ nerve-wracking appointment.

 

He takes Steve’s hand once they’ve arrived, walking into the doctor’s office. Neither of them mention how sweaty his hand is. Medical examinations aren’t exactly a new phenomena—which is the problem, really. He gets sick even thinking about it. But, 18 weeks pregnant, there’s really no avoiding this.

 

Or avoiding the lovely, intrusive Ms. Sharon, already there waiting for them.

 

Their new DPF agent, assigned to Bucky and Steve a month after Ms. Hill mysteriously disappeared, is a lot more friendly than her predecessor. She’s also a lot more persistent. Today, looking at her gray suit, flawless make up and perfectly curled hair, Bucky has to fight the urge to growl at her.

 

“I’ve already checked you in,” she says jovially when they reach her. Sharon gestures at the desk, saying, “there’s just a few more things for you to sign, Mr. Rogers.”

 

Sharon doesn’t mean him.

 

She flashes Bucky a smile and starts rifling through a very thick file, one Bucky has seen many a time in their meetings since the DPF assigned her to them. It contains every legal document, medical file, vaccination, education record, omega house report, and so on, to be documented since the birth of James Buchanan Barnes. When he presented and became government property his parents were no longer entitled to it.

 

And now, even since he’s finally rejoined society and reached the age of legal adult for all other designations, the DPF and his alpha mate are still the only ones entitled to it.

 

So it must be Steve who goes and signs the paperwork at the front desk, tight lipped as he does it. Bucky glances at him uneasily when the receptionist explains the documents. They both have gotten better at communicating when something bothers them, but it took him a while to admit Steve mouthing off at mostly-innocent slightly-ignorant employees is near top of Bucky’s list. He breathes a sigh of relief when the sweet grandmotherly receptionist tells them to take a seat and Steve only nods.

 

They join other ao pairs in the waiting room, Bucky steering them to seats farthest away from where Sharon is perched. He doesn’t scent any other kind, which is sad but not surprising. Some things have changed, but the fertility crisis certainly hasn’t.

 

“How’s the project?” Bucky asks quietly.

 

Steve’s eyes immediately light up. “Pepper came and looked at it today.”

 

“She can look and I can’t?” Bucky pouts, though it’s already twisting into a smirk.

 

“I didn’t say that! I just said—“

 

“It’s easier for you if I don’t, yeah yeah,” Bucky grumbles. “I’m starting to wonder if this giant mural is of me in the nude.”

 

Steve laughs, loud enough for a few people to glance up at them from their phones or magazines. One omega, who’d been staring down at her empty lap till now, does a double take.

 

Her eyes go wide, flickering between Steve and Bucky. She’s pretty, small, blond—practically perfection, in society’s view of omegas—and has the faintest bruise on her left cheekbone. Bucky’s smile softens, and he nods once at her. She blushes and looks down.

 

“Got an admirer?” Steve breathes next to him; when Bucky looks over at him his alpha raises a brow.

 

“I think she recognizes us,” he answers. Steve’s smirk fades in surprise.

 

“I don’t know about that,” he says, frowning slightly. Being ‘internet famous’ is certainly still a strange concept to both of them. And they’re more than that now, too, thanks to Tony Stark.

 

But the blond omega keeps stealing glances at them. A few minutes later her alpha, a skinny beanpole of a guy, grabs her wrist—she flinches, Bucky notices with a clench in his stomach—and says something into her ear before heading to the bathroom. Luckily Steve has his head tipped back, eyes closed, or there’s no way that beanpole alpha would make it out of here in one piece.

 

Bucky forgets to look away, and she catches him watching. The blond girl checks the bathroom door hesitantly, then nervously walks across thesmall waiting room to them.

 

“Are you Bucky and Steve?” she asks, looking between them. There is little question in her large eyes, though, just nervous excitement.

 

Steve’s eyes shoot open, startled, while Bucky smiles and says, “That’s us.”

 

“I’m Katrina,” she says. “I’ve seen your interviews, and your posts, I don’t want to bother you, I just--”

 

“No here, sit down,” Steve says, always the gentleman.

 

Katrina glances back at the bathroom before taking a seat. “Thanks,” she says, voice suddenly growing thick. “I wanted to tell you, Bucky--and you’re amazing too, Steve--congratulations. For the pup. And thank you. I think, that I realized, I--” She looks down, eyes filled with tears.

 

“Hey,” Bucky says, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. People are probably watching them, but at the moment he couldn’t care less.

 

Katrina looks up, smiles around tear tracks, and says, “I’ve realized I’m worth something.”

 

In that moment, Steve’s name is called out and Katrina’s alpha emerges from the bathroom. So Bucky hugs the poor girl, quick and tight, before following the nurse and Sharon out of the waiting room. He looks back and sees Katrina shrug when the alpha asks her something, the omega ignoring his tight posture and smiling after them.

 

* * *

**CNN LIVE**

 

**Molly: And we’re back! Joining us here is house representative of Michigan, Dan Everett, author of several books including his most recent New York Times bestseller, _Decay of Designation_. Dan, thank you for joining us today.**

 

**Dan: Thank you, Molly.**

 

**Molly: Dan, your book provides startling accounts of dysfunctional mates, families, and communities, that the psychology of designation is integral to human interaction. All pointing to the argument that blurring designation might decay society--**

 

**Dan: I wouldn’t say that blurring designation _might_ decay society. I would say it _has_.**

 

**Molly: Right, yes. And with the House debating repealing the Omega Protection Act--**

 

**Dan: Amending, not repealing.**

 

**Molly: You’re saying there isn’t any talk of repealing?**

 

**Dan: Talk, yes, but it won’t go any further. Even if majority ruled in both houses on that proposal--which is silly to even talk about considering the anarchy we would throw the country into--even if it did, the president would veto. Half of his platform was built on promises to end the fertility crisis, throwing helpless omega children into a world of criminals and injustice is going to do the opposite.**

 

**Molly: Your novel seems to pin the fertility crisis on reform just like this. But I wanted to ask about the induction of the Omega Protection. What would you say caused the crisis to worsen after such laws were originally put in place?**

 

**Dan: In the 1950’s the law-makers were acting as first responders to the fire, not fire preventers. I don’t believe we’d still be standing today as American people if they hadn’t drafted laws to protect the weakest among us, look at Russia, look at China--**

 

**Molly: Many European countries have survived without--**

 

**Dan: Survive? Is that all America needs to do? Don’t we want to _prosper_ again, someday? **

 

**Molly: How would you define 'prosper,' Dan?"**

 

**Dan: Making the country a better place. For our children, for their children. When we forget the purpose behind all that we do, the world tips into chaos. Decay of society is brought about when we forget who we are. What we stand for: the American dream. The pursuit of happiness. Turning our backs on the safeguards for that happiness will only reap tragedy.**

 

**Molly: Safeguards like the Omega Protection Act?**

 

**Dan: And the FMS, and all laws and programs under the Department of Population and Fertility, yes. That's what I've devoted this book to explain.**

 

**Molly: Dan Everett, read all about it in his best-selling book, _Decay of Designation_.**

 

**Dan: Thank you Molly.**

 

**Molly: Up next--**

 

* * *

 

After lots of initial tests of Bucky’s blood pressure, weight, height, and peeing in a cup, blood is drawn for testing. Then Bucky is asked all sorts of questions by Dr. Cho, their assigned doctor. Sharon hovers next to the bed, cutting in with information from his files and Steve’s.

 

“What was the first day of your last heat?”

 

“I think--”

 

“February 22nd,” Sharon cuts in brightly. “The first and only one I oversaw, actually.”

 

Bucky glares at her.

 

“How regular are your heats? How many days pass between them?”

 

“I haven’t skipped any before. It’s usually 10 weeks, about.”

 

Sharon adds, “From his omega house records, James’ average time in heat is 74 days. It used to be at 54 days, but when he was about 14 the time suddenly lengthened. I understand that’s unnatural, doctor?”

 

Dr. Cho nods. “Though it’s not unheard of, certainly.”

 

“Since mating with his alpha however, the average has gone back down again. I am concerned there’s some irregularity there.”

 

“Interesting,” Dr. Cho hums. She turns to look at Bucky, whose stomach is currently in knots, and asks, “Have you ever had a miscarriage?”

 

“No.”

 

For once, Sharon doesn’t cut in.

 

“Have you noticed any blood or abnormal discharge since your last heat?”

 

Bucky finds himself glancing at Steve, though there’s no way his alpha would know better than him. “No?” Dr. Cho waits with a raised eyebrow, so Bucky adds, “I haven’t noticed anything, uh. Abnormal.”

 

“What is your parent’s history with miscarriage?”

 

“The Barnes family is unusually fertile, doctor,” Sharon pipes in as she rifles out a few documents from her folder. “No birth defects, no genetic disorders, and their records show only three miscarriages before their first child. They were even issued a DPF agent after, for James’ birth, because of their unusual fertility rate.”

 

“Two children?” Dr. Cho asks, no doubt shocked. She glances at Bucky strangely before saying, “Why were they not issued one sooner?”

 

“They’re both betas,” Bucky says before Sharon can. Dr. Cho blinks, surprised again. “There wasn’t much reason to hope until my mother made it full-term with Becca.”

 

“And on your side, Mr. Rogers?” she asks Steve.

 

“My parents only had me, ma’am,” Steve says, voice neutral. “My omega father had lots of miscarriages before I was born, and he died soon after that.”

 

“Were there birth complications?”

 

“No. He was just . . . his body was weak.” Steve looked down, his hands restless. “Like mine, before my body changed and I presented as alpha.”

 

A shark smelling blood, Dr. Cho starts asking after Steve’s medical history. She’s definitely hit the jackpot. Sharon pulls out her other, even-thicker folder, with copies of Steve’s parents’ records and his own. Bucky remembers; as children Steve didn’t like to mention it, but inevitably things came up. Why he couldn’t join the track team with Bucky--his heart murmur--why he missed school the past week--another case of pneumonia--why he needed to sit down and breathe--

 

It’s not strange anymore to think of little Stevie from middle grade and Steve the alpha, Bucky’s mate, as the same person. But Bucky is so glad that, at least health-wise, they aren’t. He’ll take Steve’s ridiculously huge, muscled self any day, even if it’s frankly intimidating, over worrying about his friend meeting an early grave.

 

Though he knows Steve doesn’t share the same sentiment, Bucky is now reminded to be grateful he turned out the omega, and Steve the alpha.

 

Meanwhile, the doctor’s eyes have grown wider and wider with each malady Sharon listed from his records. “--and childhood asthma. Did I miss anything, Steve?”

 

Steve, Bucky belatedly notices, is white-knuckling the exam table with one hand. A whiff of distress in the air. He puts his own over it, and Steve lets out a shaky breath.

 

“No,” comes out in a punch of air.

 

He’s quiet the rest of the exam.

 

“You’re at a healthy weight, which is good to start out with,” the alpha doctor says to Bucky once she’s jotted everything down. Sharon beams at him in Bucky’s peripheral vision, which he ignores. “I think you can be optimistic. A few screening tests will give us more information. Of course . . . 43% and 38% fertility rate between the both of you is rather high, but don’t be discouraged if this first time things don’t work out. It’s always a high possibility--”

 

“That I miscarry the pup,” he finishes for her, feeling his stomach drop. He feels Steve tense even more next to him. And Bucky knows--he _knows_ \--miscarriages are five times more common than actual births, these days. But hearing it still doesn’t feel good.

 

“Yes. At least one of them,” she admits.

 

Bucky chokes on air.

 

“One of them?” Steve asks, head snapping to look down at Bucky’s belly. Sharon’s eyes look like they’re about to pop from their sockets.

 

A few minutes later the ultrasound machine is on and the tech rolls cold jelly on Bucky’s belly while Dr. Cho says, “I could be wrong. But . . . I’m probably not wrong, if your last heat was only 3 months ago, with how much you’re showing.”

 

Bucky has no idea what he’s looking at on the black-white-screen until the beta tech presses the instrument against his belly a certain spot and points to a blob, “There’s one. And look,” he points to a blob right against the other, “another, smaller one.”

 

“So. There’s, two pups in here?” Bucky squeaks, looking down at the bump of his abdomen. He resists the urge to poke it, for now.

 

“Twins,” Dr. Cho confirmed. “And . . . that’s wonderful. Really, a miracle. But you should know it’s also a harder pregnancy, and a higher chance of miscarriage.”

 

“What can we do to avoid that, doctor?” Sharon looks ready to assemble an army. She probably can and will.

 

“Most of the time it’s caused by genetic abnormality,” Dr. Cho says with a sad smile. “Not much you or I can control. But I can offer some advice.”

 

Dr. Cho gives Bucky a laundry list of do’s and don’t’s that Sharon so helpfully types in to her phone, promising to send to Bucky and Steve later. Once they finish, there is still a pap smear and five different screening tests to go through and it’s nearly 6 pm by the time Bucky and Steve stagger back inside their apartment.

 

Bucky immediately heads for his ‘nesting chair,’ a present from Tony that he’d initially scoffed at until sitting in it once. The domed, round seat makes Bucky feel cocooned and safe, and the thick layered padding is the softest material he’s ever felt. His favorite fleece blanket, the only one that’s survived the three past heats, lays bunched up from the last time and Bucky quickly wraps it around his body, only his head uncovered.

 

Steve leaves him be and makes a simple dinner. He’s caught on that Bucky uses the chair to be alone, to be comforted without needing Steve to comfort him. A lesser man might take it as an insult, that his omega found a way to cope without him. Steve is not that man.

 

After a while his heart is considerably calmer, and his stomach’s mostly unknotted itself. Bucky keeps up his deep breathing exercise anyway, enjoying each fresh pull of oxygen and how it clears his mind.

 

Until Bucky thinks the word, _twins_ , of course. Then he might as well start all over.

 

“Steve?”

 

Steve slowly leaves the kitchen, something heavy about his shoulders as he approaches. Bucky gestures for him to come closer, and his mate kneels right in front of the nesting chair, putting a warm hand on Bucky’s knee.

 

“How about next time we don’t let Sharon schedule therapy and doctor appointments the same day?” Bucky says, letting out a weak laugh.

 

“I shouldn’t have let her,” Steve says, wincing and looking down. Always the martyr.

 

“Me either,” Bucky adds, nudging Steve’s chin up with a hand. That gets the smallest of smiles out of his mate, at least. “But maybe if we both put our foot down we’ll stand a chance against the DPF nazi.”

 

“Bucky . . .” Steve starts, but finishes by putting a hand on his mate’s abdomen. Bucky immediately feels warmer at the touch.

 

“Two pups,” he agrees in wonder.

 

Love floods through Bucky at the thought of _two,_ one on his knee and the other on Steve’s. He wants them both now, so bad. But, the always-scared piece of his mind whispers, more to gain could also mean more to lose.

 

“Yeah,” Steve nods. Bucky probably imagines it, but the alpha almost looks guilty for a second. Whatever the expression is, it’s quickly replaced by a smile.

 

They eat dinner and go to bed early, snuggling as Bucky checks his Instagram account--Steve’s technically, as omegas don’t have access, but he quickly agrees to let Bucky use his identity to make it--and replies to a few of the comments. Tony has been a lot more active on his account today, tagging them in a few things. He’s blatantly used the username ‘ThisisTonyStark,’ and yet no one dares to protest. The power of money, Bucky supposes. Natasha tried calling somewhere in the middle of the appointment but texted soon after, _sorry i forgot today was your appt! Tell me how it went!_

 

He’ll have to call her tomorrow. And his parents, and Becca. And Steve’s mom. Sam won’t press, but Bucky doesn’t want him to hear it from Tony--who is definitely last on the list for that very reason.

 

The amount of people in Bucky’s life has gone from one to a dozen in less than a year.

 

“She just wanted to get to know me, this morning,” Bucky whispers into the dark.

 

Steve stirs, starts stroking his forearm. “That’s good.”

 

“Probably,” Bucky nods, staring at the ceiling.

 

“Did you tell her...anything?”

 

Bucky snorts, turning his head to look at Steve. “You mean did I tell her about Alex,” he says, because that’s really half the point of starting these sessions. “Yeah. Not much, but.”

 

Steve makes an approving sound, leaning forward to nose at Bucky’s neck. He bumps against their bonding mark, and even the small touch pleasantly jolts Bucky’s insides.

 

“Tony was right. She didn’t blame me, or anything,” Bucky whispers after another minute, and Steve immediately tightens his arms around him. His mate’s way of silently saying he’ll pummel anyone who does otherwise. “She asked me about you after that, if you ever acted like him or forced me or anything. It was strange. It's not like it matters. Considering I’m your property, I mean.”

 

Steve freezes for a moment, then rolls and pulls Bucky over top of him. “You’re no more my property than I am yours, Bucky,” he says fiercely up at him.

 

Bucky rolls his eyes, though Steve probably can’t see. “I’m saying in the eyes of society, to the government, you over-sensitive idiot,” he mumbles and leans down to give Steve a sharp kiss. “Stop worrying. You don’t make me feel like property.”

 

“What do you feel like, then?” Steve asks. His voice sounds strange.

 

Bucky’s mind skips back to two weeks ago, when they spent the weekend with Natasha. She’d quickly moved out of Clint-the- _not_ -actually-a-mailman’s apartment in D.C., from whom she’d acquired an impressive supply of illegal suppressants, and found her own little spot in the world.

 

She was so happy to see them, but Bucky could immediately feel something off. How she avoided Steve being less than three feet from her, drank too much, laughed too hard at the things they said. Bucky tried asking about it, the moments they were alone, but Natasha was Natasha. She shrugged and smirked, claiming ignorance.

 

Then Clint came over, the second night, and something in her eyes brightened. Her laugh came out gentler, her body relaxed. Bucky watched as they insulted each other back and forth and he realized what he was seeing: _Natasha_ , completely and entirely, in a way she’d never been even back at the omega house.

 

“Myself,” he says to Steve, now, not really knowing what he means.

 

Steve smiles. He seems to understand.

 

* * *

 

**[Excerpt from thehelenshow, watch more content on https://www.helentube.com]**

 

**Helen: It might help, for people to hear what it’s like. Most betas and alphas, myself included, don’t have a clue.**

 

**Bucky: It’s...well, like. Getting stripped of, of who you are. [He pauses contemplatively.] I’m not just an omega, you know? I’m a son, a brother, a friend. I ran on the school track team. I wanted to read science fiction books, and go to college, and be with my family and my best friend Steve forever. And I was all that before I ever presented. At omega houses they take away everything from you but your designation. And then, force you to swallow their prescribed idea of what that means. So...hell. It’s like hell, I guess.**

 

* * *

 

“Have you gotten used to the idea of twins?”

 

Bucky stops chewing at his lip, looking up at his therapist. Jane is an alpha, which was more than half the reason he fought Tony on meeting with her, but she’s small and kind and somehow exudes a very non-dominant presence. Maybe familiar, somehow. Four sessions in, he might even be starting to trust her.

 

She smiles when he meets her gaze, waiting patiently.

 

“Um. In some ways,” he nods. “Morning sickness is starting to suck. We’re looking at where to move to.” Sharon is looking, he mentally corrects. Apparently that’s not Bucky or Steve’s decision to make anymore. He had joked to Steve whether they’d even get to name the pups, but any trace of humor died when Steve just gave him a worried look.

 

On the other hand, a deposit from the Department of Population and Fertility was made into Steve’s checking account with an absurd amount of 0’s on it. This besides the complete, government-funded health coverage afforded to ao couples.

 

Steve stayed on the phone for an hour plus yelling at the DPF help line employee to cancel the transaction, to no avail.

 

(Bucky retreated to his nest.)

 

“How is your relationship with Steve?” she asks. The million dollar question she never fails to include.

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky says honestly. “It’s not like we’re fighting. We mate all the time, but he’s also gotten really good at giving me space.” Maybe too good.

 

“Fighting isn’t a bad thing,” she reminds him, and Bucky hates how hard that is to accept.

 

“I know,” he says tiredly, pressing both hands against his face. His therapist lets him sit there, breathing, thinking. But Bucky’s thoughts rarely take him anywhere constructive. It’s been eight months out of Alex’s grasp, but underneath that is six years’ worth of grime and muck. Filthy fingerprints left all over Bucky’s skin.

 

“I’d never tell him this, but I think I’m still scared,” he admits in a tiny voice. “Not that he’d hurt me, I don’t think. Just that, somehow, some way I’ll ruin everything and he’ll realize what Alex saw, what I am.”

 

That he doesn’t deserve any better than what he got.

 

“What are you?”

 

Bucky’s breath hitches, caught somewhere in his throat. He tries to breathe, and it keeps hitching, until finally the air wrenches out: a sob.

 

Jane is sympathetically quiet until his tears run out. When he finally meets her eyes, there’s no disgust, or annoyance, or pity. Just strong, loving conviction as she tells him, “You decide, Bucky. No one else.”.

 

Bucky realizes then who she reminds him of: Steve.

 

* * *

 

**TIMELINE: The Rocky Road for Repeal**

_**by Alexa Rivera (Posted June 7)** _

**Maybe you saw it mentioned on the news or heard it from your politically-involved neighbor. But not all of us peruse the internet archives, or live in cities where people of all designations have been rallying.**

**With the repeal and replace of the Omega Protection Act about to hit the Senate, here’s a catch-up from yours truly on the fight for rights, omega-style:**

_**Timeline** _

**Jan. 25: The House will repeal and replace parts of the OPA by spring, Fury said at a policy retreat in Philadelphia. The goal: Mark up a bill in the coming weeks and bring the final package to the floor by late February or early March.**

**  
March 6: The House releases an OPA repeal-and-replace bill, called the American Omega Care Act. Opposition quickly mounted, with some calling it “Omega Protection Act 2.0” and “OPA Lite.”**

**  
March 8–9: The House begins marking up the bill. Both the Population and Fertility and the Ways and Means committees hold lengthy mark ups, lasting all day and into the next, yet ultimately passing in votes.**

**  
March 16: The House Budget Committee narrowly passes the bill, with three members of the House Freedom Caucus voting against advancing the measure.**

**  
March 24: Lacking the votes, Fury pulls the bill from the House floor.**

**  
April 26: The House Freedom Caucus endorses a revised bill, giving new life to the OPA repeal effort. The key change: The inclusion of an amendment from Freedom Caucus Chairman Mark Magnus and centrist Rep. Justin Hammer. The new provision lets states opt out of certain regulations.**

**  
May 4: The House narrowly approves its OPA repeal bill, 217-213. Meanwhile, senators express concerns with the House bill and make it clear the upper chamber won’t simply take up the measure as is.**

 

**June 7: With the July 4 recess rapidly approaching, activist leaders hope to vote to repeal OPA before the week-long break.**

 

**LOAD COMMENTS (140)**

 

* * *

 

 

A few weeks later Steve and Bucky are invited to dinner at Stark Tower, in celebration of _I Present As Human_ forums now held weekly in 43 states.

 

“All thanks to you two and that spotlight during the Helen interview. Definitely not to celebrate the circus show we call government,” Tony gripes over the phone when he calls. Calls, only because, “My alpha has some archaic notion that you can’t text-invite someone to dinner and I’m humoring her.”

 

They take a group picture for Tony to post on instagram, Tony declaring, “The internet is going to go wild for the double BadAO in this room.”

 

“I don’t know, Tony. We’ll be old news soon enough,” Bucky says as they sit to eat, and Tony snorts.

 

“Pepper and I, _that’s_ old news. Senator Stern’s threesome, so last week. Blah blah blah, scandalous crap, blah blah, people have heard it before. But! A hot, young AO pair are tragically separated as boys and find each other again despite all odds? Not to mention now get pregnant with twins? No one gets tired of that shit.”

 

“I wish they would,” Steve says with a sigh. “People should be paying attention to more important things.”

 

“Everyone wants hope,” Pepper says with a casual shrug. “You symbolize that. And you’re not just a couple that people want to see together--though they do, obviously--they want to idolize you. And you’re advocating change.”

 

“However terribly,” Bucky says with a smirk. "I'm more a poster child for the DPF than omega rights, with these two growing in here." He pokes his belly.

 

“The public wants what the public wants,” Tony declares, pointing a fork at the other omega. “Besides. I shed one very manly tear watching your interview.”

 

“Thanks again for doing that,” Pepper adds warmly, and a waiter arrives with the first course.

 

Steve is quiet for the rest of the dinner. Quiet most days in general, lately. Bucky isn’t stupid enough, anymore anyway, to think Steve is purposefully punishing him with silence. But when the conversation moves to pregnancy and Pepper asks his mate how he feels about being a father? Steve shrugs, flashing a half-hearted smile.

 

Maybe he’s finally realizing what he’s gotten himself shackled to, a voice says in Bucky’s mind, and it’s too old, baritone and alpha to be mistaken for anyone but Alex.

 

Also because it’s a load of shit, no matter how deep it cuts. He knows that. He _knows._

 

So he squeezes Steve’s shoulder and says, “He’ll make the better parent out of the two of us for sure.”

 

Tony snorts. “Yeah right. You both are hopeless. Steve’ll be trying to tape them in bubble wrap and you’ll be taking them to rallies when they’re yea high.” He lowers his hand  below the table with a smirk.

 

“At least you’ll equal each other out,” Pepper puts in. “It’s for the best Tony and I can’t have kids. We’d never let them grow up.”

 

Tony looks down, then takes a dangerously large bite of steak.

 

“How are the policy meetings with Senator Strange?” Steve asks, mercifully changing the subject.

 

But that launches the Stark-Potts duo into a long rant about the Senate, how finicky senators are, how the replacement law isn’t much different, and before Bucky knows it the two are locked in a heated debate, Pepper arguing that “we have to start somewhere with reform, that’s how it works,” and Tony arguing, “it doesn’t start on _shit_ though, it’s time to go back to the drawing board--”

 

When it’s time to go Pepper peppers them with apologies, and Tony mutters into Bucky’s ears as they hug, “Take care of Steve for me, alright kid?”

 

Steve takes Bucky’s hand as they ride home in the luxurious limo backseat, threading it through one of his and tracing the back of it with the other. Bucky puts his head on his mate’s shoulder, soothed by the touch.

 

“You were quiet, tonight,” Bucky murmurs into his skin. Steve’s finger stops it’s tracing motions for a moment, then they begin again.

 

“Sorry,” he sighs.

 

“Now who needs to stop apologizing?”

 

Steve sighs, and kisses the crown of Bucky’s head. “I love you,” he whispers.

 

When they make love that night, Steve’s touches feel too reverent, too apologetic. Bucky digs his nails into the alpha’s back, demanding, “Harder, Steve, c’mon,” but though his pace picks up a little, Steve keeps it gentle.

 

“Don’t want to hurt the pups,” he says into Bucky’s ear.

 

“You won’t,” Bucky whines, but his mate just ducks his head against their bond mark and suckles it until they both carefully tip over the edge.

 

* * *

 

 

**[Excerpt from thehelenshow, watch more content on https://www.helentube.com]**

 

**Helen: Let’s switch to your side of things, Steve. How did you handle your best friend being ripped away like that?**

 

**Steve: There was a lot I still didn’t know. I hadn’t presented myself. For a while, I hoped...well, it’s probably surprising. But a lot of people thought I’d be an omega.**

 

**[A few audience members laugh.]**

 

**Helen: No, he’s not joking, guys. Here’s little Steven Rogers in middle grade everyone.**

 

**[The backdrop shows a school picture of a very small grimacing Steve, seemingly caught at the wrong moment by the camera. The audience ‘awwws’ and whoops’.]**

 

**Steve: Yeah. In high grade I had a really late first rut, and it’s been up, literally, from there.**

 

**Helen: But you were saying?**

 

**Steve: Right. I was hoping I’d join him soon, somehow I’d be sent to his omega house. When I presented as alpha that dream vanished, and an even less-likely one started. All depending on chance, really.**

 

**Helen: The federal mating services did it right for once?**

 

**Steve: I wouldn’t say so. I’m so glad to have my best friend back, but the way we were brought together was hard, on both of us. There still are repercussions. If we had never been separated...if Bucky hadn’t spent 6 years getting told lies... [Stops, sighing.] And we don’t have it that bad, compared to most. But I don’t want that for anyone else. I might be the only who doesn’t like being forced to mate--even if it didn’t turn out to be a stranger--but. I’m willing to bet I’m not.**

 

* * *

 

Bucky knows Steve’s painting is of him in some shape or form. Steve snuck out his expensive camera and spent weeks whipping it out to catch Bucky smiling about something, or laughing at what Becca said over skype, or just thinking.

 

It was annoying, but now he misses those days. Now Steve holes up in his studio, door closed, only coming out for meals. And Bucky is busy typing away, ever since he complained to Tony about finding a purpose as a mated omega and received a text a few days later:

 

**Starktastic: how about writing a book?**

 

It’s slow-going, especially since the omega house hardly felt the need to polish up Bucky’s middle grade writing skills, but it feels good to write what sometimes he can’t say out loud.

 

He’s yet to tell Steve.

 

“How’s it coming?” Bucky asks his mate over dinner, though Steve’s storm-cloud mood gives enough away.

 

He angrily stabs at a piece of broccoli, retorting, “Pepper is going to have to find someone else for the exhibit. Every time I sit down and look at it there’s _more_ mistakes--” Steve cuts himself off, shaking his head tiredly.

 

“Time to call it quits for the night?” Bucky asks, hopeful. “Maybe we can relax, put on a movie.”

 

Steve shakes his head. “No, she needs it by the 1st. I’m going to work on it a few more hours.”

 

After they clean up Bucky pulls Steve into a kiss, hoping to distract him that way, but Steve ends it after barely a minute before heading back to his lair.

 

“Steve?” Bucky calls after him, and nearly loses his courage when his mate looks back with a raised brow. “I think you need a break.”

 

The alpha’s face flattens a little, and he replies, “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“I _do_ worry!” Bucky exclaims in frustration. He starts crossing from the kitchen, finds the nerve to close the distance despite the alpha’s defensive posture. Steve won’t hurt him, he’s _never_ hurt him. He can do this.

 

“Buck--”

 

“No, don’t ‘Buck’ me, I’m allowed to care--”  

 

“I’m not the one we should be worrying about,” Steve cuts him off with, sharp and final. Stopping Bucky in his tracks.

 

He watches numbly as Steve walks into the studio and shuts the door.

 

The buzzing of his phone in his pocket breaks Bucky out of his daze where he’s sitting, crouched against the side of their bed. For the better part of twenty minutes, by the clock on his phone. Bucky fumbles to hit answer without really looking at the ID number, and regrets it instantly when he hears, “Hey Bucky!! I tried calling Steve, I wanted to let you know I have a list of really nice, affordable 3 bedroom apartments available in Brooklyn, can I come over tomorrow and look over the--?”

 

Bucky belatedly realizes his breath is too shaky and loud, can probably be heard over the phone, right as Sharon asks in an entirely different, low tone, “Bucky are you alright? What’s going on? Are you safe?”

 

If Bucky ever doubted she could assemble an army before, he doesn’t now.

 

“M’fine,” he says in a shaky voice.

 

“Is it the pups? Are you feeling any pain?” she asks in that same urgent tone, and he shakes his head before realizing she can’t see it.

 

“No. Sorry,” he says, falling back to bad habits.

 

“Did someone hurt you? Did...? Say the word and I can get you out of there, you’re pregnant, by DPF regulations I’m allowed to--”

 

No, he's not hurt. Not the way she thinks.

 

“I’m really fine,” he says, “but I’m tired. I’m going to bed now, sorry.”

 

“Okay, you get some rest, I’ll be--”

 

Bucky hangs up before she finishes.

 

* * *

 

**Former DPF Agent reveals all in this shocking NYT tell-all interview**

 

**The nation’s Department of Population and Fertility is unveiled in all it’s moral grandeur and horror by former agent Maria Hill in this chilling interview recorded below!**

 

**mhillinterview.wmv**

 

* * *

 

 

Steve is gone the next morning to meet with Pepper about the exhibit, and Bucky is sad to feel relieved. A tight tension has been brewing between them, something gray and abstract but growing stronger. He hates feeling it, but he can’t seem to break it.

 

The morning puke session complete, Bucky makes himself some eggs. After eating them straight out of the pan, he relieves his increasingly smaller bladder and finds himself surveying what’s in the mirror.

 

A strange body, to say the least. He’s tall, and broad-shouldered for an omega, not to mention there’s stubble currently growing on his cheeks. He keeps his hair a little long, unlike Tony, but only because he likes it that way. His arms are thick and his legs are strong.

 

And there’s a strange, round curve protruding from his belly.

 

Can Steve stand to look at him?

 

A knock on the door jumps Bucky out of his self-appraisal. Few people know their key-code into the building, and of course it’s Bucky’s least favorite on that list at the door. Sharon immediately walks past him into the apartment, bubbling, “You won’t be able to stand it here a second longer when I show you these places!”

 

They are, indeed, all beautiful, by the listings she shows him on her Starkpad, and all extraordinarily out of Steve and Bucky’s price range.

 

“You won’t need to worry about that,” Sharon says with delight, when Bucky explains. “Once a mated pair have two pups their housing is paid for! DPF approved, of course.”

 

Bucky sits down on the couch heavily, thinking of how badly Steve is going to holler about this.

 

After a moment Sharon’s bright smile fades. Her eyes somehow grow sharper, yet--kinder? She sits next to Bucky in gentle movements, and he can feel her gaze, searching his face. “Do you know why I’m here, Bucky?”

 

“Um,” Bucky says, unsettled. He glances at her in confusion. “To make sure Steve and I have kids? Boost the population?”

 

“Yes,” she nods, “and no. I’m sorry if I seem . . . overzealous about it at times, but this isn’t about the DPF. I truly want you both to have more happiness. I want the world to be a better place. And I believe, in this case, both of those things will happen when you raise your beautiful children.”

 

She looks down at her hands, then back at him. “You’re a hero, James Barnes. I’m not ignorant to the influence you’ve had on the country--bigger than you think, by the way--and you’ll make a wonderful parent. We need more people like you.”

 

For some stupid, silly and probably hormone-related reason, tears are spilling down Bucky’s cheeks. “Thanks,” he manages thickly.

 

She nods, face splitting into a more familiar, enthusiastic expression. “Now. What’s going on with you and Steve?” she asks, back to that business voice that means the whole world is going to have to make way.

 

Bucky straightens up. He wipes at his eyes and takes in a breath, for once not feeling annoyed by her determination. Instead, fueled by it. He replies, “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos if you liked it :) Also, I promise to respond to all comments this go-around!!


	2. my heart an un-kept secret

**Helen: I hadn’t seen the statement you two made at the Brooklyn rally. When Tony Stark called me up--yes he does that, ladies and gents, don’t ask me how he found my number but he can probably find yours--when he told me about you two, though. I was blown away.**

**Bucky: Thank you, but. I didn’t do anything.**

**Steve: He’s just being modest.**

**Bucky: Shut it, I just mean--in the grand scheme of things, we’re a drop in the bucket. There are millions of people in this country, and everyone gets affected by this.**

**Helen: I agree. If my mate and I ever had a pup--(the audience makes sounds of surprise and anticipation)--no this is not an announcement everybody, I’m just saying if that _had_ happened I can’t imagine giving one up to the government. I already lost a brother, and I still don’t know where he ended up. Who here...well. Let’s do this: stand up if you’ve ever lost a loved one thanks to the Omega Protection Act.**

**(Steve immediately stands. Helen and half the audience do as well. Then, slowly, Bucky stands. The shot panels out to the camera techs, who rise as well. One by one, the whole audience does. There is silence.)**

 

* * *

 

 

It’s so easy to say he’s going to buck up the courage and do something. But the doing part is never so easy.

 

Bucky remembers when Rumlow first started at the omega house, Bucky’s third year there. All of the alphas before him had been disinterested but mostly content to do what Alex told them. Rumlow seemed different. He talked back to the director, got angry and annoyed and, on occasion, even acted self-righteous.

 

All in all, an imperfect man. But somehow one Bucky found hope in.

 

He steeled himself to tell Rumlow what was going on, what Alex had been doing to him the past few months. He played it out in his head, all the possible outcomes. Most weren’t very optimistic, but if there was a _chance_. Even the smallest likelihood, that Rumlow believed him or the evidence…

 

The eleventh time he tried, Bucky finally got the words out.

 

“He doesn’t just punish me. He...uses me,” he told the alpha as the larger man escorted him from Pierce’s room back to the omega’s quarters.

 

And Rumlow replied, “What he does to you ain’t my business, kid. Try n’stop provoking him, maybe.”

 

They walked the remainder of the way in silence.

 

Bucky swore he would never hope again. But now the past few months have happened, and...and?

 

Is that hope still in vain?

 

When Steve returns home later than Bucky assumed dinner is past and the food is long cold. Bucky retreats to his nest like a coward. But Steve just offers an absent smile, then warms up his plate in the microwave. He takes it with him into his studio.

 

Bucky is starting to resent that room.

 

He gets on Platinum--which hasn’t relocated to a different name in nearly two months, by some miracle--but the omega archive is uncharacteristically quiet. The recent conversations are redundant too, just opinions on top of opinions about change without much idea on how. Bucky turns off his phone in annoyance and drops it on the ground.

 

A few minutes later the screen lights up with a new text message:

 

**Nat: heeeyyyy skype?**

 

It’s been a while, maybe since he told her about the twin surprise, that they’ve done more than text. When Bucky replies in the affirmative and a few minutes later sees not just Natasha but Clint on the screen, his face splits into a surprise. It feels strange--like the action’s gotten rusty.

 

“Hey! Are you hanging at Clint’s?” Bucky says to her when he notices the unfamiliar background. The two of them are sitting closer than usual.

 

“Man, I guess get straight to the point, huh?” Clint says to Natasha, who laughs.

 

“James is good at reading people,” she says, winking at Bucky across the screen. “Almost as good as me.”

 

“Yeah definitely not as good, because I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Bucky puts in, and now both of them laugh.

 

“I wanted to tell you, I moved back in--”

 

“Not like you moved back in, like this time you’re moving _in_ in, Nat,” Clint says, and Natasha punches his shoulder.

 

“Fine, I moved _in_ in with Clint.”

 

“Oh.” Bucky can’t help it, his grin cracks even wider at the news. At how these two interact--at how _happy_ Nat seems. “That’s awesome! As long as you don’t mind her snoring, Clint.”

 

Clint out-right cackles, nearly drowning out Natasha as she pointedly says, “So _anyway,_ enough on my poor life choices. What’s new with you?”

 

“Umm...we’re probably moving too? At some point, anyway, before the pups are born,” Bucky says.

 

“Really? Steve wants room for a studio still, then?” Natasha says.

 

Damn that studio, he thinks, before replying, “No, actually Sharon says it’s some DPF requirement that the number of bedrooms be equivalent with the number of family members.”

 

“Oh right, I should have remembered that,” Clint says, though Bucky wonders why he would. “You should come live in D.C.! Doesn’t your sister already live near here? And we could party every weekend!”

 

“ _We_ could, you’re always gone,” Natasha says with a glare at her...partner? Lover? Soon-to-be mate? She's still an omega despite the suppressants, and he's a beta. Bucky isn't sure how that works.

 

“Why’s that?” Bucky asks, and Clint shrugs.

 

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it next time you visit,” he says with a glint in his eye.

 

“So is Steve freaking out about parenthood yet?” Natasha hastily changes the subject. Bucky shrugs in answer.

 

Is that all it is? He’s avoiding Bucky, silent or brooding when he is around Bucky, all because he’s afraid of being a parent?

 

Bucky had skipped over that conclusion, assuming it must be something more.

 

“Bucky?”

 

“Sorry,” he says, blinking back to reality. “Just tired.”

 

“Yeah? Well you’re growing two little humans inside you, so I’m not surprised,” Clint chuckles.

 

“Are you nervous?” Natasha asks, one eyebrow raised.

 

Bucky frowns in confusion. “For what?”

 

Clint laughs in surprise, “Obviously not. Though I guess they do teach you _something_ at the facilities, right?”

 

Pregnancy. Birth. Pup-rearing. It’s true that half the curriculum in omega houses involved those topics. Looking back, Bucky is begrudgingly impressed at their system--one year focusing on child psychology and parenting, one year on pregnancy and birth, one year on duties in the home--and repeat.

 

The omegas that present earlier get a review. The ones that present later miss out, in a sense, because the government isn’t willing to wait any any longer than 18 years to start breeding them.

 

When Bucky arrived at the age of 12, the omegas were learning their last two months about pregnancy and childbirth--so mostly the childbirth part at that point. He remembers particularly vivid nightmares after live birth videos, dreams of getting chopped in half, split up his back, blood pouring out of him. Medical professional calmly telling him the pup would make it, at least.

 

He was grateful when the unit ended and duties in the home started up--until they started on the more intimate ‘duties.’

 

“I had terrible marks in all my classes,” Bucky shrugs now, swallowing his nausea.

 

Natasha adds, “On purpose. I think you were trying to make them send you back, prove to everyone you wouldn’t be a good omega.”

 

“And where did that get me?” Bucky asks sarcastically.

 

“Mated, in love, and carrying two pups,” Natasha says, smile warm but eyes carrying something sad.  

 

* * *

 

 

**Department of Population and Fertility Protocol #237**

**In the event of successful breeding, the agent may at his or her discretion remove the installed censors in the mating habitat. Please note that successful breeding is defined as copulation, conception, and at least twelve weeks of healthy gestation. (See Protocol #191 for information on possible promotion.)**

  

* * *

 

 

Before they reach the top of the stairs after the usual morning jog, Bucky’s lungs demands he slow the pace. He’s going slower as it is, which Steve is more than fine with--in fact he’d be even more fine if Bucky agreed to call it quits for the rest of the pregnancy, but he’s not that incapacitated yet--and this morning especially winded him. It’s irritating.

 

But he can’t exactly be upset with the innocent little ones inside him.

 

Steve takes the stairs two at a time, could probably go a whole other lap on their route, and makes it to the door long before Bucky. Meaning he sees first their cheery DPF agent waiting outside the apartment.

 

“Mr. Rogers,” Bucky hears her say as he catches up, her tone polite but not ecstatic as usual. By the look on her face when Bucky makes it around Steve, he might even say she’s nervous.

 

“Did you need something?” Steve asks with a raised brow.

 

“Yes, actually!” she says. “If I could come in for a few minutes…?”

 

Steve sighs and unlocks the door, the three of them entering. Sharon’s eyes immediately survey the walls, tapping a finger against the odd briefcase she’s holding. Steve ignores her, going to make breakfast. But Bucky can tell something’s going on, by the slightly hesitant smile she gives him when their eyes meet.

 

“It’ll only take a second, but I need to...remove some things in here,” she says, eyes flitting to an abstract painting on one of the walls. Bucky follows her gaze, frowning.

 

“Is there a problem?” Steve asks, suddenly near again. His tone is controlled but hinting at aggression. Bucky resists the urge to put himself behind the alpha, get out of the way of whatever is about to happen.

 

Sharon smiles thinly, replying, “Not at all, Mr. Rogers. It’s only, during the original inspection it’s protocol to insert non-intrusive censors into the mating habitat. I can remove those now, however, since breeding’s been accomplished.”

 

“ _What?”_

 

Steve takes one step toward her, alpha aggression pungent in the air, and Bucky suddenly feels very nauseous.

 

“You put _what_ in my house?”

 

Betas are usually good at calming alphas, especially alpha on alpha tension, but Sharon doesn’t seem to know how to soothe aggression that’s directed only at her. Bucky can relate. At least she’s still standing there, mouth tight and posture tense, not backing down. Unafraid of an alpha. Meanwhile Bucky needs to lie down, probably, and this has nothing to do with him.

 

“You’re upsetting him,” she points out, and it’s then that Steve seems to snap out of it and notice whatever is on Bucky’s face. His face flips like a switch from dark and angry to open and concerned, wrapping an arm around Bucky and helping him to the couch.

 

Sharon goes to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water that Bucky thankfully accepts. The sudden attention is uncomfortable, though, with Steve’s gaze tracking up and down his body to make sure he’s alright and Sharon hovering not far. He feels like an invalid.

 

“Sorry, probably pushed myself too hard on that run,” he chuckles weakly after taking a sip, avoiding Steve’s eye contact.

 

The alpha squeezes his knee, saying, “It’s alright. Why don’t you go lie down and Sharon and I will talk?”

 

Bucky wants to say no. He hasn’t spent a long time liking Sharon, but he still doesn’t wish Steve’s wrath on her for something she can’t even control. Bucky’s been in that boat. He’s done plenty of things he’s not proud of, because he was told to. It's something Steve would never understand.

 

He agrees anyway, dismissing Steve’s help to the bedroom with an, “I’m okay,” as he walks out of the room, and presses his ear against the door the moment he’s shut it.

 

Steve waits a few more moments before speaking.

 

“So there’s been cameras in here the whole time.”

 

“Not cameras, the DPF keep the privacy of--”

 

“Privacy. That’s privacy?”

 

“Mr. Rogers, I understand how you must be feeling.”

 

“I don’t think you do.”

 

“But whoever Miss Hill was, she couldn’t spy on you if she wanted to. Neither can I. All the censors pick up on is pheromones--”

 

“So you could pick up on when we were...together? Or having an argument? Or falling in love? Or bonding, god--”

 

“I can remove them now, Mr. Rogers, you don’t have to--”

 

“And this is what you people call _freedom_ \--”

 

“It’s policy, none of us--”

 

“Did--did Bucky know?”

 

There’s a short silence, then Sharon replies in a calmer tone, “Miss Hill indicated in a report that she did make contact with the omega during your four and a half weeks of abstinence. He was made aware in some way that you were being monitored. But that was in concern of successful bonding, we’re past that now--”

 

Something cuts her off, though it isn’t Steve’s voice. Bucky makes out footsteps going across the room, and then a sound he recognizes as a turning doorknob.

 

“You need to go.”

 

“You don’t want the censors removed, Mr. Rogers?”

 

“Leave, now.”

 

It’s that same tone he used on Bucky a few nights earlier: cold and final.

 

Bucky backs away from the door, still nauseous and a little jittery for some reason. He quietly lays on the bed where he should have been all along. Out there, the front door clicks back into place, and Bucky closes his eyes. He shuts them tighter, tensing, at the sound of something hitting the wall. Then silence.

 

Steve enters a minute later, quiet. He can feel the alpha’s eyes on his back, his presence a few feet away.

 

“Bucky?”

 

Steve says his name in a hoarse whisper. Something twists painfully in Bucky’s chest, but he keeps his breathing steady.

 

Steve waits there a little longer, than lets out a shaky sigh and by the sound of it, moves to his knees, making the smallest dip in the mattress that Bucky realizes must be his head.

 

Bucky finally finds his courage and pretends to stir a minute later, flipping to his other side. He blinks his eyes open to see Steve raising his head, looking at him with that strange expression Bucky doesn’t want to get used to.

 

“I’m going to find them,” he tells Bucky. “The censors, the bugs in here. They’ll be gone, I promise.”

 

“We could ask Sharon--”

 

“You ask her. I don’t want her in our home, ever again,” Steve says shortly. He stands up in stiff movements and leaves Bucky there watching him go.

 

* * *

 

 

**THE PLATINUM 'O' ARCHIVE**

**\--**

**Question: HAS ANYONE SEEN THIS?? LIKE HOLY FUCK!!! https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/07/us/politics/maria-hill-interview.html -- megawesome**

 

**jaw4: I think the most chilling part is how literally powerless everyone in the system is. Even the agents supposedly "in charge" of the little people are governed themselves by government giants who don't care about anyone but themselves.**

 

**hereshoping: "He was still bleeding, but when we arrived the doctor told me the injury was not threatening to his life or the pups. My orders were to take him back." This part is nauseating.**

 

**jjabrams: She's really brave for quitting and then talking about it. Not to say the DPF could just quietly eliminate her at this point, she's too public, but I'm sure they'll find a way to make her life a living hell. But yeah, it's disgusting how justified everyone is, like we're saving the world by oppressing omegas. I don't know how DPF agents swallow such bullshit to begin with.**

 

 ~~**izzyishere: I had to stop watching halfway through and just read the transcript. What a sorry pile of shit. Go kill yourself, bitch.** ~~ **(comment deleted)**

**greatomod2: Reminder that comments are monitored and should avoid aggressive and demeaning language or comments. Thanks everyone!**

 

**imagineligers: It's nice to hear it how it is. Mine was really great with my mate and I, when I lost another baby, he just knew what to say and console me. Not all agents are terrible people, most are just trying to do a good thing. In a really misguided way....lol.**

 

**(96 MORE)**

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky gets the location of all the censors from Sharon and they quickly take them down, which seems to put Steve in a better mood. One on the inner side of the bed’s framing, no surprise. One on the underside of the shower head. One in the living room on the back of that abstract painting, one under one of the cupboards in the kitchen. One even in Steve’s studio, behind the bookshelf. Bucky is pretty sure that's the one place, out of all these locations, that they _haven't_ mated. The DPF were certainly thorough.

 

They gather up the five metal, button-sized pieces into a pile on the counter, which Steve stares at for a long moment before walking to the coat closet. Bucky raises an eyebrow in slight alarm when he returns with a hammer.

 

“Would you like to do the honors?” he says, holding the tool out to Bucky with a flourish.

 

He laughs, surprised. “Isn’t this technically government property, Steve?”

 

“All the more reason,” Steve says with a smirk.

 

Bucky shakes his head and takes the hammer, trying his best to aim before successfully smashing two of them into pieces of metal and broken wires. It actually feels very satisfying. The rest go flying at the impact, and Steve gathers them up so Bucky can aim again.

 

“Take THAT Miss Hill,” Bucky says as he swings again, and Steve laughs in surprise. Bucky does too, then continues, “And THAT Sharon. And THAT omega protection act. And THAT--”

 

He’s laughing too hard to keep going, and Steve wraps his arms around his neck and kisses him hard. It’s uncoordinated, because they’re too busy chuckling to kiss properly, but Bucky thinks it makes top ten of their kisses just from the sheer relief and happiness currently flooding him.

 

“I think you dented the counter top,” Steve says just as Bucky takes a deep breath, and it gets stuck in his throat on another laugh.

 

“Did I?” he breathes, looking over at the counter, but Steve nudges his chin back with a playful growl.

 

“Do you think I care?” he asks, and backs Bucky up to the side of the counter before kissing him thoroughly. “They’re all destroyed, that’s what matters.”

 

The two of them end up the couch, Steve’s hand around both his and Bucky’s cocks. He’s suckling Bucky’s neck, not quite on their bonding mark. Tease. Bucky squeezes his mate’s ass hard in retaliation, and Steve laugh-gasps in surprise, bucking forward.

 

“You going to take me, omega?” he says into Bucky’s ear, making him shiver.

 

They have switched places twice before. It’s not the same as feeling Steve’s knot fill him up, but a unique kind of good. Especially the way Steve feels around him, his hole and his limbs, in every way wrapping him up and welcoming Bucky in. Claiming of a different kind. The thought of that tips Bucky over the edge, gasping, and Steve groans while he strokes him through it and comes a minute later.

 

“Maybe next time,” Bucky says sheepishly, and Steve laughs, maneuvering to lay sideways between Bucky and the back of the couch.

 

He seems happy now. That’s where the danger of it is. Bucky’s not stupid enough, not anymore anyway, to believe sex fixes or changes anything that’s wrong. But still, Steve seems _happy_ now.

 

“That was the first time,” Steve says later. Bucky makes a confused noise and the alpha raises his head up, solemn. “The first time nobody was watching.”

 

Oh. Bucky blinks, trying to take in the significance of that.

 

“Sharon said you knew?” Steve says, a million questions wrapped up in one statement.

 

“Miss Hill caught me alone when we were shopping once,” he admits, looking up at the ceiling. “She said we’d have a bad chance of successfully bonding if we weren’t mating before my heat, that she knew we weren't. I guessed, from that.”

 

“What kind of bastards--” Steve cuts himself off, sighing. “Going to you only, like it was  _your_ fault _I_ said we shouldn’t.”

 

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. It technically was his fault, because Steve had been happy to fuck until he realized how messed up Bucky’s mind was. But that’s behind them, right?

 

Right?

 

“I’m glad that changed,” he says and looks Steve in the eyes, hoping this knowledge helps Steve calm down a little. “You were right here, but I missed you so much.”

 

Steve’s expression softens. He leans forward and presses his lips gently against Bucky’s, the gentlest of kisses.

 

“Now look what’s happened,” Steve says, putting a hand gently on Bucky’s round abdomen. He looks somber not excited, though, even concerned.

 

Is he that scared of raising the pups? 

 

"You okay?" Bucky finds the courage to ask, searching Steve's face.

 

His mate looks back fiercely, something desperate in his eyes as he suddenly leans over Bucky and pulls him into a passionate kiss. Bucky can only hold on for dear life, toes curling at the filthy way Steve thrusts his tongue against his. He moans, almost ready for a second round, but finally Steve parts for breath and tells him, "I love you," like that's an answer. Then, just before claiming Bucky's mouth again, whispers, "Please don't leave me."

 

Bucky tries to show him with everything but words, for the next half hour, just how ridiculous a notion that is.

 

* * *

 

**NVSS - Birth Data - CDC**

 

**Data for United States in 2016**

  
**Number of births: 178,497**  
**Birth rate: 1.4 per 1,000 population**  
**Fertility rate: 43.5 births per 1000, 687.1 miscarriages per 1000 (omegas aged 18-44 years)**  
**Percent born low birthweight: 9.7%**  
**Maternal death rate: 57.4 per 1000 live births**

**The total fertility rate (TFR) for the United States in 2016 was 43.5 births per 1,000 omegas, down 5% from 2015 (Tables 4, 8, 13, and 14). TFR estimates the number of births that a hypothetical group of 1,000 fertile omegas would have over their lifetimes, based on age-specific birth rates in a given year. Because it is computed from age-specific birth rates, TFR is age-adjusted and can be compared for populations across time, population groups, and geographic areas. (see full statistical reports below)**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, TRF does exist in the real US (it's just a LOT higher)! Yay for not-made-up acronyms!! Lol.
> 
> Thanks for all the support. I really appreciate your kudos and comments, and I'm so enjoying being back in this 'verse with you! Probably two more parts to go.


	3. my heart a battle ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a non-consensual, disturbing but short flashback! More details in the chapter's end notes. Also, updated the tags, check those out before continuing!

**Top Stories:**

 

**FOXNews.com _SHOCKING COLLAPSE OF DPF LEAVES MILLIONS WITHOUT JOBS_**

**ABCNews.com _Crimes Against Humanity--What's Really Going On in Omega Residential Facilities_**

**NBCNews.com _DPF IS PUBLICLY SHUT DOWN, PRESIDENT SILENT_**

**washingtonpost.com   _DPF SCANDAL: The Greatest Crimes of This Generation Revealed_**

**CNN.com _EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THE DPF DRUG SCANDAL REVEAL_**

 

**Trending:**

 

**#dpfscandal**

**#orfscandal**

**#impeach**

**#oparemoval**

**#NC3**

 

* * *

 

Bucky wakes up later from a nap in his nest to Steve standing grimly over him, relaxed levity of that morning washed from his face.

 

"Steve?" Bucky asks, yawning, and just then a small vibration from his phone buzzes on the floor.

 

"My mom called," Steve starts with, then bites his lip when there's another buzz.

 

Bucky ignores it, sitting up. "Is she alright?"

 

"She asked if you were," Steve says, and picks up the phone to hand to Bucky. 4 missed calls, 14 text messages and nearly a hundred instagram notifications greet him. For a second Bucky wonders if the world has ended. After scrolling through a few, however, he realizes he's not far off.

 

Steve meets his eyes with an assessing look, probably waiting for Bucky's reaction.

 

"Um. I'm just gonna..." Bucky shakes his head and grabs the laptop off the side table, making his way to the couch. He doesn't want to read or watch any of this in his nest. He doesn't really want to read it at all. Steve sits down next to him, a steady presence grounding Bucky as he starts with an article from CNN.

 

_Allegations against the Department of Population and Fertility brought to light . . . DPF Medical Supervisor Arnim Zola arrested . . . medical experimentation of the chemical NC3 on underage residents in an unconfirmed number of facilities . . . DPF Department Head Phil Coulson gave a brief statement, temporarily freezing the department . . . Omega residential facilities to continue operating until official action is made . . . question still at large: was this sanctioned government protocol? Completely off the books . . . facilities confirmed so far: Fresno Cty, CA, King Cty, TX, Winnebago Cty, IL, Essex Cty, NY, Aiken Cty, SC, Burlington Cty, NJ . . ._

 

"You were in the Essex facility," Steve says at the same time Bucky wonders why he never asked.

 

He probably could have paid better attention to the road signs, on the way from the omega house to Steve's. Too busy trying to keep his breathing steady with the stranger alpha in the car. Too busy feeling relieved as the white house faded into the horizon, yet paralyzed by his inevitable future.

 

"I don't remember..." Bucky trails off, the sound echoing in his ears. His breath comes in and out too fast, too quickly to get enough oxygen. What was the DPF doing? What did any of this mean? Steve took over clicking through articles and news report videos, and though Bucky watched them the words wouldn't translate into meaning anymore. 

 

Bucky's phone rang then, his mom's ringtone, and he answered without thinking, "Hey, Mom."

 

"Oh baby, how are you, sweetie? I just saw...your father's not home yet but I couldn't wait to call--"

 

"Fine, it's not--it's fine, Mom," Bucky says, tripping over his tongue because it's not fine. It isn't, but his mother doesn't need to hear that. "If it ever happened, I didn't notice."

 

"Oh good," she said in a choked breath, "I read about what it did to some of the kids...and for thirty years. My two sisters, your aunts, I can't stop wondering if they...?" Bucky swallows, not sure what she's referencing, but his mom continues, "At least you're okay, but god, the pups, I just hope...they'll be fine, though, I know it, you're all going to be fine--"

 

Once Bucky assures Winnie Barnes in at least 10 different ways that he feels fine and the pups are doing great, she lets him off the line. Steve, next to him, is pale and tight-lipped, still reading something new on the screen. 

 

"What does it do?" Bucky braves to ask, though the answer will probably give him nightmares.

 

Steve doesn't ask what he means. But instead of answering he pulls him into a tight embrace, shuddering. He scents Bucky like he's making sure he's real, hands moving to trace every inch of him including the bump of Bucky's stomach. "I'm right here," Bucky murmurs when Steve continues to shake, holding him closer.

 

"It makes the omega's heat worse," Steve says against his skin. "It distorts memory and focus. It increases fertility, in some successful cases like yours probably, but most of the time just miscarriage and--and death of the omega. And chances of mental illnesses and, on very high doses, it makes them lose their mind temporarily, till they don't care about anything except getting bred."

 

Bucky swallows down a few different replies. "They're putting a stop to it," he settles with, and Steve raises his head.

 

He looks at Bucky with surprisingly dry eyes, saying, "We don't know that."

 

Bucky shakes his head. "We'll make _sure_ of that." 

 

* * *

 

**[Excerpt from thehelenshow, watch more content on https://www.helentube.com]**  

 

**Helen: So what's the biggest thing that's changed about Steve since you were kids?**

 

**Bucky: Easy. His shoulder width.**

 

**[Audience laughs.]**

 

**Helen: What about Bucky, Steve?**

 

**Bucky: Oh no, I don't want to hear this.**

 

**Steve: Aw, why not?**

 

**Bucky: Just...oh go ahead. (hides behind hands)**

 

**Steve: You don't even know what I was gonna say!**

 

**Bucky: Fine, then say it!**

 

**Steve: Never stopped being a jerk, that's for sure. (laughs, then sobers) Biggest change? How he wants to watch out for _everyone_ , I think. Used to be just my hero. Now he's everyone else's, too.**

 

* * *

 

The next two days just about everyone on Bucky's contact list has called him at least once, in Becca's case four times--but not Natasha. She hasn't answered his calls or texts either.

 

**To Clint: Hey, is Natasha doing okay?**

 

**Clint: Hey James! We're busy, like out-of-state kind of busy, I'll tell her to call you tonight though!!**

 

**To Clint: Only if she's feeling up to it of course**

 

**Clint: :)**

 

It's an obvious excuse, but Bucky can't blame her if she is freaking out. He finally made himself look up more about NC3 and Dr. Zola's arrest, learning the illegal gas form had been manufactured and distributed to omega houses by the DPF themselves. Expelled into the air of heat quarantine rooms. All revealed, thanks to investigations of the New Jersey omega house hostages from months ago--the police couldn't figure out where the alphas got their hands on the substance. Turns out, the alphas simply gave them high dosages of supplies already in the facility.

 

That in particular makes Bucky nauseous. Which he doesn't need help with, carrying two pups.

 

Though, at the same time, the knowledge also makes him feel the tiniest bit better. That his heats growing so unbearable he begged for the most disgusting creature on earth to breed him, was a result of chemical inducement not his natural biology. Bucky had no idea till now that that isn't the way it is, naturally--that omegas keep their minds. Of course, the heats he's had since leaving the omega house have been mild in comparison, but Bucky chalked that up to having an alpha taking care of him.

 

Meanwhile, Steve seems to retreat further away from Bucky again. They are both busy of course--Steve readying to deliver his piece to the gallery, Bucky posting, replying and discussing on the DPF Scandal with every social platform he possesses--but that's not all of it. Even at the IPAH-funded rally they attend together the third day after the news, Steve's smile is slow to arrive and quick to fade. He speaks in short phrases and rarely keeps eye contact with Bucky as they drive to Manhattan.

 

But it's worth the cab. Sam delivers an awe-inspiring speech, essentially rebuking the federal government and calling for the state government to eliminate omega residential facilities entirely. "Are we going to let our brothers and sisters, daughters and sons, suffer in the place we sent them for safety? Do we continue, any longer, to turn a blind eye to the injustice of the degraded system past leaders handed down to us? Or do we break the cycle, end the suffering, and say _No More_."

 

The thrill that travels down Bucky's spine at those words makes him stand taller, breath deeper, see sharper. The crowd roars, so loud Bucky can't hear his own shout in the chorus. Cameras snap and flash, all aimed at the podium. For once in a long time, Bucky and Steve are again just two people in a crowd.

 

Finally, a week later, the Secretary of State holds a brief press conference. Bucky watches in slight disbelief as the man states that the Attorney General would assign an independent counsel to investigate the Department of Population and Fertility further, for crimes starting with official misconduct and perjury. It's happening. Change, is happening.

 

The same day, Sharon Carter shows up at their door, holding a briefcase in a stylish suit as usual. The only difference is the look on her face and the badge in her hand.

 

"Sharon Carter, FBI," she says with a hint of that same cheeriness, though Bucky thinks it might be ironic.

 

"Uhh, what?" he asks intelligently, and her mouth quirks into a slight smile. 

 

"Can I come in?"

 

"What's going on?" Steve asks as he makes his way from the couch, frowning. "I thought I told you--?" He stops, reading her badge.

 

"It'll be just a few minutes, if you're up for it Bucky," Sharon says, ignoring Steve.

 

"Sure," Bucky surprises himself by saying, holding the door open. By Steve's look, surprising him as well.

 

It's not strange like it should be, letting an FBI agent into his living room, but apparently Bucky's been doing it for months without knowing it. Sharon takes a seat at the single chair next to the sofa like usual, though she doesn't immediately reach for her briefcase when Bucky sits at the couch. 

 

"What's this about?" Steve asks testily, standing behind the couch with his arms crossed. "If you're trying to pin something on Bucky--"

 

"Quite the contrary, actually," Sharon says coolly without sparing Steve a glance. "Bucky, I've been working undercover since the FBI got involved with the New Jersey hostage case in January. We'd already been working on the underground drug cartel for years, trying to figure out who the main suppliers were. You've heard about NC3 by now, I hope?"

 

"Well yes, but, what does that have to do...?" 

 

"DPF agents were resigning for good reason," Sharon says. "And our investigation needed easy access to files on omegas who've gone through the NC3 treatments, for evidence to build the case. You were suggested by, uh, someone who knew you."

 

Bucky takes this in, a million new questions already crowding his head but especially, what government worker knew him. Maria Hill? An alpha guard like Brock Rumlow? He refuses to consider the only other option. "That doesn't explain what you're doing here," he says, and Steve makes a short noise of agreement.

 

"I'm now working under a head of the independent counsel," she explains, looking nervous suddenly. "We need direct testimonies from victims of the drug, which we can confirm through some blood tests that you are. And, of course, you're Bucky and Steve Rogers. Your testimony means something even more for that."

 

"But I don't remember it happening," Bucky says, biting his lip. "I didn't notice anything else in the air."

 

Sharon's face softens. "It's a silent gas. You can't see it or smell it. All we'd need you to do is talk about your experience, how it felt and what side effects you had. The rest is right there in your medical file."

 

Bucky imagines it. Standing in front of some faceless, friendless court, talking about his 'experience.' The one where they locked him into a sterile room for as long as it took, bare essentials, bare clothing. The moments that he felt like he was dying. That his heat fever reached dangerous temperatures, forcing a nurse to go in and spray him with cold water. That he'd try to stick his entire hand up his ass when it got bad enough, but never found a good enough angle. That Alex would come in--

 

_\--please, please, sir, PLEASE._

 

_Oh does the needy hole want something?_

 

_Need it, need it, please pleasepleaseplease--_

 

_I can't get near you like this. Disgusting. Whimpering like a dog, smell like one too. Is that what you are?_

_Please, anything, I'll do anything, anything--_

 

_Oh? A slut, then, not a dog. Guess I'll just sit here and enjoy the show. Brought a handkerchief to breathe into this time, god you always stink up the place--_

 

Bucky manages to make it to the kitchen sink before throwing up breakfast and lunch. Steve is at his side the next second, holding back his hair and stroking his back as Bucky's stomach clenches again and again. He moans between the last few, head pounding and dizzy. It's been a while since Bucky went back like that--not since his last heat, probably, and those had been nightmares.

 

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mr. Rogers," he hears Sharon say, "I didn't mean to, to--" She cuts herself off, and Bucky raises his head blearily to look at her standing at the counter. She takes a breath and says to him, "Bucky, please consider it. Send me your answer by the 27th."

 

With that, she's gone, and when Bucky feels his knees give Steve gently lets him slip to the floor. The alpha turns and grabs a cup, filling it with water and setting it on the counter before lifting Bucky up entirely with his own strength. Next Steve hands him the glass, still propping him up, so Bucky drinks and gargles the water obediently, spitting most of it into the sink. Before he can do much else Steve sweeps him up and carries him to their bed. Bucky doesn't have it in him to raise a word of protest.

 

Once he's tucked in, a newly-filled glass on the bedside table, Steve sits on the edge. "That was embarrassing," Bucky croaks as the alpha strokes his hair from his face. 

 

Steve shakes his head. "It was her fault. Asking you to talk about _that_ in front of millions . . ." Bucky manages not to flinch at the disgust in Steve's voice, the same tone he heard in Alex's voice just a few minutes ago. "You don't have to do that, Buck."

 

Bucky nods. He feels the age-old need to apologize. For not being better yet, for being such a mess in the first place. For any of it happening at all.

 

But he doesn't, and maybe that's improvement.

 

Steve kisses his forehead and leaves Bucky to rest. He tries, harder than he usually has to since being pregnant, but while his body settles his mind is wide awake. Thinking, remembering, wondering. For a moment Bucky allows himself; he thinks about what might have been. Growing up together, falling in love so sweetly and innocently. First kiss under those old bleachers, maybe, leaning down because Steve isn't taller than him yet. Graduating, bonding, Steve discovering and exploring Bucky's body first, Bucky's only. No worries. No dirtiness soils their bed, no hurt and confusion and pain soils their love. No Alexander Pierce--

 

He doesn't recognize that Bucky, whoever it would be. Maybe that's what scares him.

 

* * *

 

**bbarnesbio.doc**

**I don’t remember a lot of things about racing Al Perkins my first day of middle grade, besides the look on a tiny blond kid’s face when I beat the older boy.**

**Sunshine, is what I’d call it now. Like somehow my racing feet had broken through layers of cloud cover and earned the sun. The other kids crowded around me, the new kid, and they beat my back and hollered--but I only had sights for that face. That small boy, at the edge of the masses.**

**I didn’t know.**

**I didn’t know I’d just stood up the bully of the school, who harassed this kid in particular. I didn’t know my life would change forever. But when he hung back and gave me a half-smile as the crowd dissipated, I knew I wanted him. I didn’t know then, exactly how.**

 

* * *

 

"Why do you think the things Alex said still affect you?" 

 

Bucky stops fiddling with his hands, looking up at Jane in surprise.

 

"I don't--I don't know, shouldn't--shouldn't they?" he splutters, defensive. But her face is as patient and kind as ever.

 

"There is no 'should' or 'shouldn't' when it comes to most things, like abuse. There's just what is," she says eloquently, then waits.

 

"Um." Bucky swallows, looking down at his hands again. He tries to wrap his head around that, around the 'why' instead of the 'what.' "They hurt? Unkind, rude things, names he'd call me."

 

"Like what?"

 

Bucky takes a deep breath, remembering this is Jane trying to help him, not being nosy. She only asks when she thinks it will help.

 

"He called me a, a whore. Slut. Useless hole. Omega bitch, sometimes."

 

Jane nods, unfazed. "And that hurt you," she confirms, Bucky nodding. Though now he almost feels silly, like a sensitive child, for caring about name-calling.

 

"It shouldn't have mattered--"

 

"Ah ah, Bucky, remember, no should or shouldn't, right?"

 

Bucky blows out a breath, sighing. "Right."

 

Jane smiles, adding, "I understand how that could hurt, don't worry. I just want you to think about why."

 

He nods, thinking. An answer comes quicker than he expected, even if it hurts to realize. "Okay, I get it," he says, raising his head and trying for a smirk. "Because I thought it was true, right?"

 

"Maybe," she nods, like he's only starting to get somewhere.

 

"But I don't want to be that kid anymore," Bucky says, suddenly feeling anxious to explain. "Scared and lonely and worthless. That's how he made me feel, and I, I guess I believed it was true. And...believe it still, sometimes." Jane still says nothing, so Bucky continues, "Who am I though? If not that? It's--it's not like society or the government helps. I'm a piece of meat, a womb to fill, to them. I'm, I'm..."

 

_You don't make me feel like property_ , he'd told Steve two weeks ago. The day they found out about twins. Really, the day Bucky's life turned upside down all over again.

 

"Who do you want to be?" Jane asks.

 

Bucky realizes he doesn't know. But he also realizes, as he's driven home and watches the blur of people on the streets, that he might have a small idea of where to start.

 

* * *

 

**From: Bucky Rogers**

**Hey Sharon. Sorry about freaking out like that when you came by. I've been thinking about it, and I'd like to help. If you'll still have me. Just let me know what you need, and I'll try my best. Thanks, Bucky.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Bucky flashbacks briefly, remembering the terrible things Alexander Pierce would say to him while he was in heat and that he would beg for help.
> 
> Sorry for a longer wait everyone! I have the ending all written out, but piecing it all together has grown this little ficlet into a fic! Also, sorry if you know more about the American government than my sparse google searches...I tried, but not *that* hard...oh well *hits submit, throws laptop*


	4. my heart a fractured mirror

 

When the deep purple flecks  
O'er your sweet, bonded neck  
When the stars begin to flicker in the sky  
In the mist of a memory  
Your scent wanders back to me  
Breathing my name with a sigh

 

In the still of the night  
Once again I hold you tight  
Tho' you're gone our bond lives on so sweet  
And as long as my heart will beat  
Dear mate, we'll always meet  
Here in my deep purple dreams

 

\- lyric excerpt of _Deep Purple_ , 1949

 

* * *

 

 

It starts out with something so trivial.

 

Pepper is sending her own vehicle to safely move Steve's finished painting the next day, dried and covered and left leaning against the living room wall. Bucky finds himself staring at it while Steve showers after their jog. Once Steve is ready, the alpha will take it there himself. Bucky tries to busy himself making breakfast, frying the sausage and eggs with his eyes firmly down at the pan, but either he finishes quicker than usual or Steve is showering longer. Soon enough he's merely waiting again. Bucky looks back at the mysterious rectangle, zipped in a protective case, and suddenly it's like his feet take him across the room by themselves. Bucky feels a sudden, urgent need to see. Steve has spent weeks fretting and obsessing over this single, secret canvas, and Bucky needs to _see_.

 

He leans it upright from the wall, surprised by the weight. But with a tug of his hand, the zipper slides open. Bucky's hand shakes, but still he reaches inside, feeling the back of the painting for a handhold. Maybe, if he can see it, he will understand. 

 

"Bucky?"

 

Bucky flinches hard enough his hand catches on the zipper, skin cut against it as he jerks his hand out. He's too busy stumbling back to care, heart beating wildly at Steve's expression--or lack thereof.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I--"

 

Steve's face morphs into a frown. "You really want to see it now?"

 

"No of course not, I don't know why I," Bucky splutters, mentally berating himself. Steve told him. Steve had practically _warned_ him, not to look until the exhibit. Yet here he is.  "I'm sorry," he says again, and Steve's frown grows deeper.

 

"You can look, Buck," he says, and for some reason Bucky suddenly can't bear the thought. Not with Steve here, looking at him like that. When Steve moves to the canvas, Bucky stops him with a hand.

 

"No," he shakes his head, taking a steadying breath and getting back on his feet.

 

"Buck, you were just--"

 

"I don't want to see it," Bucky cuts him off with, the words coming out sharp. He regrets it immediately when Steve's brows angle together that certain way--the only tell he gives that he's been hurt. "Not yet, I mean," Bucky tries to amend, "like you said--"

 

A familiar, jazzy ringtone interrupts them from the kitchen. Natasha's, Bucky realizes with a sudden burst of relief. After seven days, she's finally calling him back.

 

"You should probably get that," Steve says with little inflection, closed off again. 

 

Bucky hesitates, but for long enough. When he starts, "I'll call her back--" Steve gives him a sad smile.

 

"She still loves you," he says out of left field. "You know that, right?"

 

"I--" Bucky starts, but the phone is still buzzing and playing that tune, distracting him. 

 

"I'm sorry you couldn't choose her," Steve says. Bucky stares at him numbly in shock as the music cuts off. His mate--his mate, his bonded, the other half of his _soul_ \--just pecks him on the cheek, grabs the covered canvas and goes out the door.

 

It's not a big deal. Steve didn't mean it that way, Bucky tries to reason with himself. But that eternal fear inside of him brings him to his knees in the middle of the room, whispering, _This is what's going on with Steve: he doesn't want you. He's sorry you're with him. You're nothing--what did you expect? That he wouldn't figure it out eventually?_

 

Bucky sobs, shaking his head, even as the more present part of him agrees, _Couldn't even follow a simple direction. Had to look at a goddamn painting. Well, are you happy now?_

 

Natasha's ringtone starts up again, startling Bucky out of his downward spiral. He stumbles to his feet, wiping his face with his shirt as he reaches the phone on the counter. Natasha's happy face, with Lucky the dog licking her cheek, smiles back at him. He grabs it and hits answer.

 

"Hey," he says, but it comes out cracked and thick. Bucky clears his throat, saying, "Hey, sorry, didn't get to the phone in time the first time you called."

 

"I'm the one who needs to beg forgiveness," Nat says on the other end, and he feels his shoulders loosen just from the sound of her voice.

 

"Clint said you've been busy," Bucky offers, "I know you weren't ignoring me." Even if it felt like it.

 

"And you were right," Natasha says, "Had to get our eggs in a row. But that's done now. How are you?"

 

"Pups are healthy, according to our last check-up," Bucky reports. "Growing at a normal rate. The art exhibit is next week, for Steve's painting."

 

"Glad to hear that, but none of it tell me how _you_ are doing, James."

 

Bucky swallows thickly, trying not to revisit the conversation he and Steve just had. It's hard to think about anything else though, now. "I'm okay, Nat. Just tired and...worried. You've probably seen the news by now, that's mainly why I was worried about you."

 

Natasha chuckles darkly on the other end. "You don't need to be. I was never affected by it--in the omega house."

 

"You can't see or smell NC3, Nat, you don't know--"

 

"I know," she replies shortly. "But it's you who dealt with all of the bullshit in that facility, James. I remember; you told me about it."

 

A recent memory suddenly surfaces: Natasha running next to him on the worn path around the house's hill, a track beaten down by hundreds of past omega feet. Still within the perimeter they were allowed for recreation, if only just. It was one of the last times they ran together.

 

"But there's no relief," Bucky told her when she took a breather, starting up a conversation right from where they left off at breakfast. "It feels like _dying_. There's no answer except mating."

 

Natasha gave him an incredulous look as she stretched her calves. "It's hard sometimes, yeah. But not impossible. I don't need an alpha to deal with it." Bucky conceded, just assuming that Natasha was Natasha, who could handle everything or die trying. It was either let Alex have him, or bond with a stranger, in Bucky's mind. Being mate-less never felt like an option thanks to society, the government, but especially his intolerable heats. 

 

Numbly he wonders if Alex was the one who told the FBI to go to him. Sharon still hasn't replied to his text. Bucky still hasn't told Steve. At that he blinks to the present, Natasha still waiting patiently on the other side of the line. "Sorry," he says, "just remembering. You're right. I'm glad you never had to deal with it, then, I wouldn't--"

 

"I did...deal with it, James," Natasha interrupts with, voice hesitant, and Bucky's lungs catch on a breath. "Not at the omega house, like I said. But. With the alpha the director paired me with."

 

Bucky feels his blood turn to ice as she continues, "I meant to tell you in person. When you and your Steve came--I meant to explain the whole story, about me and Clint. I just couldn't. But now, with how fast everything is happening, you should at least know what's important."

 

"What?" Bucky says, biting his lip.

 

She gusts a sigh into the receiver. "I told you he was a dick, right? Well, I meant it. He was a prominent leader in a national drug cartel, too. He used a lot of it himself, and on me. That's how I know I wasn't exposed to NC3 in the facility--it never felt like that before. Like, like I was burning from the inside out, you know? You probably do, actually. So. It was hard to fight back in that state to say the least, but he would go on long trips and leave me locked up with supplies, and when I got my mind back I tried to find a way out."

 

"And Clint found you?" Bucky says, after a long pause. Natasha chuckles dryly.

 

"Lucky did. Though he was sniffing for something else when they saw me through the basement window. Clint, he--let's just say he works for the good kind of government."

 

Bucky blinks rapidly, trying to take this in. "He's not a mailman?"

 

"That's his usual cover," Natasha responds in an amused voice. "Not anymore, though. He's been promoted for bringing down the cartel and helping uncover the DPF scandal."

 

" _Shit_ , Nat," he replies, nothing else coming to mind. 

 

She laughs in agreement, but her voice is serious when she says, "I had Clint recommend the FBI track you down, back in January, without telling you. I'm sorry--I wasn't allowed. Sharon Carter needed to be undercover to manage what she did, and she did. Her, and a few others undercover in the DPF, and Clint and his team who took down the cartel, they made a difference. And people like you and Steve led the cultural shift needed so the federal government had to take it seriously. And it's happening. Your pups..they'll be safe, James."

 

Natasha has to leave for a meeting of some kind soon after that. Bucky stares down at the phone screen long after it's gone black. 

 

* * *

 

Preventing Miscarriage: Is There Anything You Can Do?

by Jay Palmer

Little can be done to stop a miscarriage. Most are caused by genetic abnormalities more and more common in this modern age. However, a healthy lifestyle before and during pregnancy may help, says Jerica Michelson, D.O., a board-certified ob-gyn at the Family Childbirth and Children's Center at Mercy Medical Center in Baltimore. Here are her recommendations:

**Eat a well-balanced diet.**  You may already be taking a prenatal vitamin, but don't think of it as a magic bullet. A well-balanced, healthy diet is the best way to get the vitamins and nutrients your body needs to nourish your pup, says Dr. Michelson. Plus, studies have found that loading up on a variety of fresh fruits and veggies every day can significantly lower your odds of having a miscarriage.

**Exercise in moderation.**  You should continue your usual exercise routine once you're pregnant, though now's not the time to start training for your first marathon. The key is moderation: Some research indicates that seven hours or more of high-impact exercise a week while pregnant could greatly increase your risk of miscarriage. Contact sports are also off the table for now, as they could lead to an injury or fall.

**Stay close to your mate.** Studies show that an extra dose of oxytocin can improve your overall health, which includes your pup's when you are pregnant. Continue to engage in sexual activity with your alpha, and find things for them to rub their scent into for you if they need to leave for any extended period of time (more than a few days). 

**Limit caffeine.**  Some doctors suggest moms-to-be restrict their intake to no more than 200 milligrams a day, or roughly two 6-ounce cups of coffee, tea, or other caffeinated beverage.

**Avoid drugs, smoking, and alcohol.**

**Get a handle on stress.**  Besides improving your overall mood, staying relaxed may also help the health of your pregnancy. In one study, omegas who said they felt happy, relaxed, and in control were found to be 30 percent less likely to have a miscarriage.

 

* * *

 

The apartment is quiet, so of course it can’t be in his brain.

 

Steve lays next to him, arm slung over Bucky's hips in his sleep. It's at least past midnight, by now, and still Bucky scrutinizes his mate's relaxed, sleeping face.

 

Who is 'Bucky,' to Steve?

 

He can't help but think of the implications since this morning, since the past month. His mind wrestles anxiously with the past: Why didn't Steve know it was Bucky in that inspection room? When he thought he'd been stuck with a stranger? Why wouldn’t he recognize him?

 

Bucky knows where his demonic internal monologue is getting at with this, but he feels powerless to argue. Because if he confronts Steve about what’s wrong, what does he expect to hear? Something sweet and guileless, something nothing to do with him? Stress about the gallery? An understandable fear of parenthood?

 

Alex is right. Bucky knows it’s his own brain speaking, the still-scared piece of him that is much too overactive for his own good. He _knows_ \--but for six years, Alex always ended up right.

 

And if Alex is right, Steve didn’t recognize him because he was ruined. Because Alex scooped out every good thing in Bucky Barnes and filled him with demons instead. A walking, talking pandora box--because there’s nothing left of _Steve’s_ Bucky, in his eyes.  And maybe now the alpha’s realizing there never will be. Maybe he doesn't want children, with a stranger.

 

At that thought, the smallest sound escapes him.

 

Steve stirs. “Bucky?” he asks, voice muffled with sleep.

 

Does Bucky really want to know? Does he really want to hear the truth?

 

No. Bucky shakes his head, and when Steve's arm begins to coil more firmly around Bucky's back, he sharply twists away. But, with the action, an abrupt pain stabs like a blade in his abdomen. A real cry is torn out of him, Bucky's hands fumbling to his stomach. Two seconds later another sharp pain pierces him, and Bucky lets out a strangled noise.

 

He’s killed them, god, he’s killed the pups--

 

“Bucky!” Steve shouts, much closer, and not a second later he feels his alpha’s warm hands on him.

 

Bucky grabs at him, feeling a sudden primal urge to be wrapped up in his alpha’s arms, every inch of him covered by his mate. Steve ignores his weak pulling, however, hands immediately going to the omega’s stomach.

 

“The pups?” he says, looming over him, a wild look in his eyes that Bucky is sure matches his own. But there isn’t any more pain, really, only the pounding in his heart and adrenaline in his veins left as evidence that anything happened.

 

“I think I just--” Bucky starts, still feeling that urge to draw Steve near.

 

“We need to get to the hospital,” he says, and without warning pulls Bucky bridal-style out of the bed.

 

“Let’s just call Dr. Cho,” Bucky says, trying to get down. For all his strength, the alpha doesn’t seem to even notice his attempts.

 

“We’ll call her on the way there,” Steve says, no room for argument in his voice.

 

Bucky doesn’t. He’s not good at it. He probably never will be, if he’s being honest, and most of the time that’s okay but right now it scares him.

 

Steve carries him out of the apartment, only stopping to slip on shoes. His mate at least lets Bucky down when he asks to not be carried down the complex’s stairs, though shoe-less himself. Every muscle in Steve’s body feels strung tense as a bow, and although Bucky doesn’t believe Steve would hurt him, he certainly doesn’t want to be near that angry tension right now.

 

Bucky calls Dr. Cho while they drive, explaining the situation to her.

 

“It happened when you twisted fast, you said?” Her voice sounds concerned, but not overly so.

 

“Right,” Bucky confirms. “Lasted about five seconds, maybe.”

 

“No pain since then?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you spot any blood?”

 

Bucky can barely breathe as he reaches back and pulls on the waistband of his sweats, checking from behind. But the air finally escapes his lungs at the sight of his clean, unstained boxers. Steve watches with a clenched jaw.

 

“No,” Bucky breathes.

 

“Okay.” She doesn’t speak for a second, then says, “Well, it was probably just a cramp, but you never know. If you’d like, I have a little time open tomorrow morning just in case--”

 

“We’re going to the emergency room right now, actually,” Bucky says, and to his annoyance Dr. Cho doesn’t blame them for being extra pre-cautious, all things considered.

 

So Steve wins. And Bucky sits barefoot in the waiting room of the emergency room--cramped between Steve, who won't stop jiggling his leg, and some beta who’s snoring--then endures the four hours it takes to wait, get checked on and examined and poked at by more strangers, before said strangers declare nothing obviously wrong and tell Steve to schedule an appointment with their primary doctor and be on their way.

 

But Steve stays as tense as ever on the way home, giving off a harsh alpha stench with such a cocktail of negative emotions Bucky’s senses can’t pull them apart. He wants to get away from them, yet at the same time drag Steve to the nest and never let him go.

 

So, when they make it home, he does neither.

 

* * *

 

 

**THE PLATINUM 'O' ARCHIVE**

**\-------------------**

**Topic:**

**If you’re scared of tomorrow, clap your hands**

**If you’re scared of tomorrow, clap your hands**

**If you’re scared of tomorrow, and omega rights seem real far oh**

**If you’re scared of tomorrow, clap your hands**

**\--** **smooothchoco**

**Comments:**

**btbeta: God saw this post this morning and it was stuck in my head all day**

**pastel11: *sweats, claps hands spasmically***

**poligarchy: But in all seriousness I don’t think most people, especially omegas, realize what a shit-show this could turn out to be. I’m going to lay it out for you. Here’s what hurdles the OPA replacement bill has passed thus far in the House of Reps: the b** **ill gets drafted, introduced to the house, sent to committees, receives committee action (which it did just barely), goes through the rules committee, and if it makes it that far finally it sees floor action.  
** **It barely made it through, ladies and gents. And now, starting tomorrow, it needs to do this ALL OVER AGAIN in the Senate, THEN get signed by the Prez, and if he vetoes it, ⅔ of BOTH HOUSES have to approve overriding the veto or the bill is dead. This is what your future is up against, omegas.**

**imzzz: umm this affects my future too, thanks**

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey,” Bucky starts, the moment they’re back into the apartment and Steve’s shut the door. Bucky backs himself up against the couch, wanting something to ground him. He's oddly reminded of his first day here, six months ago now, with the awkward tension between him and his new alpha. Except Bucky is not planning on kissing his way out of this one.

 

Steve turns his head toward Bucky sharply, though that’s likely because every inch of him is tense. “I’ll call Dr. Cho back about this morning,” he says shortly, pulling out his phone.

 

“No.”

 

Bucky’s nerves are unraveling at the silence that follows. He’s rarely opposed Steve like this. The alpha looks confused not shocked but, slowly, he does put his phone back in his pocket.

 

"Bucky, you almost just--"

 

"We've been up all night and I'm tired," Bucky says. "I think we should go in, yeah, but not today. I'm going to go to bed in a second. But not until we talk."

 

"About?" Steve says, shoulders rising in defense.

 

"What you said, yesterday," Bucky begins, and Steve immediately starts shaking his head.

 

"I didn't mean to throw that in your face," he says, eyes sincere. "I'm sorry."

 

Bucky gulps, nodding. "But...you think that?" When Steve looks at him in confusion, Bucky clarifies, "That it would be better, if I'd been with Natasha."

 

Steve looks down at his hands, which clench and unclench where they're clasped in front of him. He says, almost too quiet for Bucky to hear, "I just want you to be happy."

 

That doesn't make sense. Putting aside the absurdity of the concept that all Steve wants is Bucky's happiness, if he did, why would he say such things?

 

“You’re scaring me,” Bucky admits, barely stopping himself from cringing. The words come out shaky and unsure. He clears his throat and continues, stronger, “I’m pregnant and we're together and we should be happy, but you’re scaring me.”

 

Steve’s face crumples. He hides it quickly, behind his big hands, but not before Bucky sees the brittle mask disintegrate into something raw and ugly. The urge to be near, to comfort his mate, nearly overwhelms him at the sight. Steve should never look like that, not if Bucky can help it.

 

“Steve,” he whispers, and the alpha sucks in a breath at the word. The distance between them in this room feels like miles. “Steve, you have to talk to me. We have to talk to each other, remember?”

 

Steve has to tell him if he doesn’t want him. Bucky needs to hear it, no matter how much it will hurt.

 

Steve nods jerkily against his hands, then bravely pulls them away. Smeared tears cover his beautiful face, mouth pressed into a sharp but wavering line. He says, “I’m sorry I scared you,” in a voice that nearly breaks Bucky’s heart.

 

“Not the way you’re thinking,” Bucky amends, and it’s only a partial lie. “C’mon, let’s just...sit down for a minute.”

 

Steve allows him to take his hand and lead them around the couch, where Bucky gently pushes Steve to sit before moving to plant himself on Steve’s lap. There’s a moment Steve looks warily at their position, like he’ll slide Bucky off of him-- but instead he burrows his nose into his mate’s scent glands, breathing in deeply. The air clears a little, of whatever mess of anguish the alpha’s been brewing.

 

"I'm scared too," he tells Bucky softly, breath against their bonding mark. "That could have been so much worse, Buck."

 

“But it wasn't. And something’s _been_ bothering you,” Bucky says, scraping his nails gently up and down his mate’s back. A shudder moves up Steve’s spine, and his arms tighten around Bucky. “But you don’t want to burden me with it. Right?”

 

Steve makes a sound of assent, still scenting him. And why would he do that if his mate didn't like the scent? No dark, fear-filled answer supplies itself, and right here right now, Bucky wants to prove Alex wrong. He wants to believe that he is someone worth having, someone worth keeping, someone who can have and keep someone else as wonderful and good as Steve Rogers.

 

“I can’t keep anything from you,” Steve chuckles tiredly, still tucked into Bucky’s neck.

 

“That’s because you can’t lie to save your life.”

 

“I kept the secret that we knew each other pretty well,” he pulls his head back to say.

 

“No, you called me ‘Bucky’ barely a month in,” Bucky teases, and Steve rolls his eyes.

 

“I think I did that pretty early on, actually,” Steve admits, then pecks his mate on the lips. “You were just too oblivious to notice.”

 

“Must have been those six years of NC3,” Bucky responds wryly, and watches the alpha’s face twist from amusement to pain. “Too soon?” he murmurs in apology, stroking a hand against Steve’s cheek, who lets out a sad half-laugh.

 

“I love you,” Steve says, holding Bucky’s hand to his cheek.

 

Bucky cracks a smile and says, “I love you” back. He wonders if that is enough.

 

“But I,” Steve starts, and immediately a flash of pain crosses his features. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

There's that fear again; as if Bucky would ever willingly be parted from Steve's side. Unless Steve wanted him to be. “I’m not leaving,” Bucky promises. "But you can be honest with me.”

 

The pain on his mate’s face contorts into genuine confusion, and he says, “Bucky?”

 

The words are there, hiding in his mouth, and even though they taste like poison Bucky can barely spit them out. “You can tell me the truth whatever it is. I know I’m not. Who I used to be, anymore. And everything that happened with Alex. And--”

 

“Don't _say_ things like that,” Steve growls.

 

That instinctual fear inside Bucky seizes, curling in on itself, setting off alarms and reactions he has no control over. Steve must immediately smell it into the air, because he sucks in a breath and pulls them horizontal onto the couch, Bucky on top, hands holding him by the face. “I’m sorry, no Buck, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry, Bucky--”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Bucky manages around the tight squeeze in his throat.

 

Steve groans in answer, knocking his head back hard against the couch. Good thing it’s well-cushioned. “This is the problem! I’m not--I can’t--and you and the pups--”

 

Bucky's heart is beating at top speed as he says, “You can’t what? You...you can be upset, Steve, I’ll be fine, I’m the one being sensitive--”

 

But it stutters mid-beat at the word, “ _No_.” Steve winces at himself then tries again, much softer, “No, Bucks.”

 

There’s his answer. Laid out plain. Steve can’t do this anymore.

 

Bucky tries his damn-dest not to cry, to manipulate Steve like that. This is good. Even if it’s killing him. “Okay,” he nods, somehow finding the will to extract himself from the alpha’s embrace.

 

But Steve’s arms tighten around him, his eyes flashing in alarm. “Wait, what?”

 

“I get it. I’d never force you to--”

 

“No! No, Buck, I meant, _no_ you’re not being too sensitive," he explains, smoothing down Bucky's hair. "There’s no such thing. I’m your mate--I agreed to this, to being whatever you needed, and--”

 

“Because you’re my _mate_?” Bucky interrupts, his voice coming out harsher than he intends. This time when he pulls back Steve lets him go, and Bucky falls back to the other side of the couch. The distance is good. Preparatory. “So that's how it works? Now you’re shackled to me, even if it makes you miserable? Even when you didn't have a choice to begin with?”

 

Steve stares at him in mortification. “You do not make me miserable--”

 

“Something does!” Bucky yells, tears leaking out of his eyes. He’s behaving terribly. If Alex could see him…

 

Bucky grits his teeth, stopping that thought in its tracks. “You’ve been miserable most of this pregnancy--what am I supposed to think?” he says at a lower volume, because he really doesn't want to yell, and that fear-filled voice is warning him:

 

Steve will see. He will see Bucky got what he deserved.

 

“It’s my fault you’re pregnant,” Steve blurts out instead, eyes shutting tightly. Bucky’s thoughts crash to a halt, stunned. “It’s my fault you’re shackled to me, it's my fault if you die like my father, or our pups die, or are sickly the rest of their lives!" he shouts, eyes wild. "It’s my fault...you went to the omega house in the first place. It is. I could smell it on you the whole day at school. If I’d just _said_ something--”

 

“ _What?_ ” Bucky gasps.

 

Steve sits up, eyes flooded with guilt. He reaches a hand out between them, then stops himself halfway. “It’s true. If I’d said something, if you’d gone home, your parents could have hid you. And now you’re pregnant, and  _I’m_ \--if you, or the pups, or anything goes wrong...” His words stop, cut short by a sob.

 

“No no, no Steve,” Bucky shakes his head hastily, “What made you ever think I blame you--?”

 

“You should,” Steve seethes, punching the couch cushion. Bucky flinches, though it's only reactionary, and Steve flinches much harder at the sight of it. “See? See what I’m doing to you?” he gasps, and puts his face back into his hands.

 

"Steve--"

 

"He wanted a child his whole life," Steve says out of nowhere, voice muffled from his hands. They fall down to his lap along with his watery gaze as he continues, "My dad. Mom says she didn't want to try, because of his weak health, but it was all he ever wanted. When I was finally conceived, she said he was happier than she'd ever seen him, even as his health went from bad to worse. I didn't make it full-term. The strain of labor, it was too much for his heart. They had to do an emergency c-section. He got to hold me twice before he died."

 

Bucky takes a deep breath, feeling his eyes prick again. "Now I know where you get your stubbornness," he says after a moment, and Steve laughs wetly, shaking his head.

 

"I never celebrated my birthday. Mom tried to, but." Steve heaves a sigh, tears dripping down his nose. "It didn't feel right. I killed him. And I can't-- _I won't live_ if I kill you too."

 

Guilt. So simple, so deadly. Steve's vice, like shame is for Bucky, the latter realizes all at once. "Look at me, Steve," he says, and his mate only shudders. “Steve. look. at. me.”

 

Slowly, the alpha raises his head.

 

Bucky swallows hard. A rush of something thrills through him when those blue eyes tearfully but obediently meet his, and it taste like trust. It tastes like hope.

 

“I need you to read something.”

 

Steve watches with blurry eyes as Bucky opens up his laptop, clicks on the file, and scrolls to the right part. This is probably just a crazy idea, but Bucky’s never been the best at explaining feelings. Having time to think, to write it out, has helped him understand himself. And maybe there’s a shot in the dark Steve will understand him better too.

 

Steve gingerly accepts it when Bucky hands the laptop over, the alpha’s eyes blinking away tears and confusion. Bucky knows well what he reads:

 

_The large white house on the hill looked nice from the car window, initially. My feverish instincts must have been haywire, to think that sight pleasant. But for all I knew it was a children’s hospital, or a strange, surprise field trip. I didn’t get a scent of the real idea until I was carried into a small, sterile room in the place, and left there._

 

_Natasha told me it was at least 7 days. A long one, like the first ones are, apparently. She said she paid attention to my room in particular, because I wasn’t a screamer. Most of the kids, isolated through their first heat, confused and scared, weren’t so quiet._

 

“Bucky, I can’t--” Steve looks down, blinking away more tears.

 

“Please,” he asks, “just keep reading. A little more. Please.”

 

Steve lets out a shaky breath, jaw locked, and continues.

 

_I have to take her word for it. I don’t remember what noises I made, or when the days passed. After long enough, staring at a white wall and burning from the inside out, I lost track of reality. My mind went elsewhere._

 

_I know, at some point, my thoughts arrived at a spot under the huge bleachers the old school couldn’t fill up anymore if it tried. Maybe I’ll go back someday. It was a place I treasured--the place I realized Steve was more than special. We were talking nonsense, kicking a can around after school, when he stopped and told me, “The world has it all wrong.”_

 

_I laughed at him, said something probably along the lines of, “Oh yeah, punk?”_

 

_And Steve gave me the prettiest smile, one that still sends warmth straight down to my toes. He shrugged and said, “There’s no such thing as fate, or soul mates, or happily ever after’s. There’s just people, and we get to decide.”_

 

_I remember stopping short, giving this scrawny, brazen kid a look-over. “Decide what?”_

 

_“What we want to live for.”_

 

_In that white sterile room, three years later, I realized I’d decided. And though he was gone, and I’d probably never see him again, I’d keep on living for him._

 

Steve, face streaked with tears, stares blankly as Bucky takes the laptop from him, puts it somewhere at their feet. But all it takes is one touch--one touch on the alpha’s shoulder, and he crumbles. Curls up, head on Bucky’s lap, arms wrapping tight around his waist.

 

“You see, Steve,” Bucky whispers, stroking his mate’s soft, short hair, “I decided a long time ago. Back when you were sick all the time, back when you'd punch a flag pole if it got in your way. I know my memory got messed with, for a long while, but. Now I keep deciding, every day."

 

"But it's my fault--"

 

"I don't care. Even if it really was, for whatever's happened--you've got to let me decide. And I choose you. I don’t want you to stop trying--I won’t stop trying--but I also don’t want you to think trying isn’t enough. It’s enough for me. You're enough for me. I decided. I decided. Okay?”

 

Steve slowly sits up. His face is open, unguarded for the first time in so long as he cups a hand around Bucky’s neck, bringing their faces close.

 

“You're enough for me too,” he says, right before their lips meet. Bucky feels mostly peaceful, mostly relieved, mostly in love--but also the tiniest bit smug.

 

Alexander Pierce was wrong.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many man tears...just how I like my Stucky, lol.
> 
> Only one more to go!


	5. my heart a warm reminder

**FBI CASE REPORT [CLASSIFIED]**

**Individuals Under Investigation (as of 7.01.17)**

**1\. NICHOLAS FURY**

**2\. JOHANN SCHMIDT**

**3\. ARNIM ZOLA**

**4\. DANIEL WHITEHALL**

**5\. WOLFGANG VON STRUCKER**

**6\. JACK ROLLINS**

**7\. MITCHELL CARSON**

**8\. JULIEN BECKERS**

**9\. OCTAVIAN BLOOM**

**10\. JASPER SITWELL**

**11.  VASILY KARPOV**

**12\. RUBY HALE**

**13\. CARL CREEL**

**14\. STEPHANIE MALICK**

**15\. ALEXANDER PIERCE**

**16\. PHILLIP COULSON**

**17\. GRANT WARD**

**(Continued)**

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky wakes half-crushed by a warm, boneless alpha, a large nose tucked into his scent glands where they lay cuddled on the couch, and an afternoon sun beam warming his face. His body feels...floaty. Without a care. In fact, Bucky decides he'd be content to stay here forever, if his left arm wasn't going going numb.

Begrudgingly, he eventually has to twist a little out from Steve's weight, making the bigger man grumble and stir. "Bucky?" he mumbles, arms snaking tighter around his mate's waist. One hand takes notice of the slight protrusion of Bucky's belly, rubbing it absentmindedly as the alpha blinks awake as well.

His eyes are blue, with a bit of green, fringed in such long lashes. Bucky feels a very sudden, very strong urge to kiss him.

He does.

When Bucky leans back Steve wears a small, dopey smile. "Time is it?" he asks dreamily to Bucky, who shrugs.

"Afternoon, I think. Whoops."

"You needed the rest," Steve replies, and scoots down to press a kiss right next to where his hand still strokes Bucky's abdomen. Bucky feels a flutter of warmth at the sensation.

"So did you, ya big lug," Bucky says, startling a surprised laugh out of Steve as he leans back up.

"It was a long night," Steve agrees, face falling ever-so-slightly. "I'm sorry, for how I acted. I--""

"It's okay," Bucky shakes his head, gut clenching as he recalls the emotional roller coaster of a conversation that made him pass out in the first place.

"You were right, though. We need to talk to each other," Steve insists. "I don't ever want to scare you. Or make you think such, such _awful_ things about yourself. Or hurt you by not telling you what's wrong--"

"We do, yeah," Bucky concedes, "just...not this moment?"

He pleads with his eyes, hoping Steve will understand.

The alpha's face softens before he nods. Slowly, he cuddles back up to Bucky, and the two lay wrapped up in each other in silence for a long time.

Until Bucky remembers. "Oh," he says, leaning forward. Steve startles a little, frowning up at him. "You don't celebrate your birthday, did you say that?"

"Yes--I mean, yes I said that. I don't like to, anyway," Steve shrugs. "Why?"

"Ummm...so if by chance StarkPotts and company were, say, planning a surprise birthday after the exhibit opens in three days? Would that count?"

 Steve leans back to stare at him, probably trying to check if Bucky's joking. He's anything but. It just hasn't been on his mind lately--they planned it out weeks ago.

"And your mom was coming too, she said it was a great idea," Bucky adds nervously, "she didn't mention anything about you not liking celebrations. I'm sorry!"

Steve surprises him with a snort. "Anything else you'd like to tell me, while we're being honest?"

When Bucky gives him a wide-eyed look, he laughs and twists them so Bucky's beneath him. Then suddenly Bucky can count the alpha's tiny freckles, he leans in so close, until their mouths are barely not touching. 

"Okay, there's one thing." Bucky pulls his head back a little, raising an eyebrow. "You're a punk."

Steve laughs so hard he can hardly kiss him, but he sure tries, nipping at Bucky's mouth and deepening it until they're breathing each other's air. Bucky feels a large, gentle hand slip under his shirt, tracing up his spine, and he can't suppress the shiver that comes. 

Then his mind flashes to the fact they're no longer being watched--that Sharon is no longer their DPF agent--that he's going to be helping her with the case--

Bucky breaks the kiss to gasp, "There is something else."

Steve harrumphs and moves down to his neck, lips not pausing for a second.

"I'm serious, Steve!" He half-breathes, half-laughs at Steve's sad sigh before his mate temporarily relinquishes his claim on Bucky's skin.

"What?" Steve growls, though it's playful.

"It's about Sharon."

Steve's expression sobers, looking at Bucky in confusion as he continues, "She asked if I would give a testimony about my time in the omega house, remember? And, uh...a few days ago, I told her yes."

The mood is officially killed. There's a careful quiet to Steve's movements as he sits up, and Bucky allows himself to be pulled up with him. Steve interlaces their hands in his lap, looking down for a few moments.

"I asked you, back in the beginning, about pressing charges against Alexander Pierce," he says softly. Then he looks Bucky in the eye, jaw tight and eyes fierce. "You told me it was hard, to not agree to whatever I said, do whatever I asked you to do."

Bucky swallows, remembering. Wondering if he can say differently now.

Steve cups a hand on his cheek and whispers, "All I want to know, Buck: are you doing this for yourself?"

Tears fill his eyes as Bucky realizes out loud, "Yes."

 

* * *

 

 

**_"...thank you, this is Sean reporting on the scene, where not one not two but three different major government officials in the Department of Population and Fertility office have been openly arrested today for alleged involvement in the drug scandal currently investigated by the FBI. Upwards of thirty lower officials have already been taken in and, reports claim, there's more to come. How many people will be behind bars before this is all over? While most are claiming ignorance..."_ **

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jane looks much too pleased when both Bucky and Steve sit down for his next session. Earlier over the phone, even, Bucky can hear her delight when he asks if it's okay. She replies, “Oh, I think I can work with that. ”

Now, here they are, and Bucky finds himself questioning his decision. Steve keeps jiggling one of his legs, only stopping when Bucky puts a hand on his knee to switch and jiggle the other leg. And whenever they make eye contact Steve gives him the brightest, fakest smile Bucky's ever seen. It's infuriating.

“We had a fight,” Bucky starts, once they're in her office, and Jane’s grin cracks into a smile so large he spots dimples.

She laughs at both of their expressions, raising both hands with a, “Sorry! It’s just, it takes two to fight. I’m glad you’re getting comfortable enough to, Bucky. But please: continue?”

It’s messy, and takes both of them, to hash out what happened. And figure out what to do with all of it. Bucky is glad Jane is there, if only to nod and make him feel a little less crazy when he says things like, “I can’t get it out of my head, Steve, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop questioning if I’m worth--anything, to you, to everyone else, to myself...”

And when Steve finally cracks open with things like, “I didn’t tell you to go home immediately not just because I didn't realize--I wasn't thinking straight because I was too busy liking the scent you were giving off--I was being so _selfish_ ,” Jane adds helpful explanations about how rare it is for children before presenting to smell designation of someone else, how only with close family is it possible usually.

"So you're saying it was a good thing," Steve says, like she's insulted him.

"No, I'm saying sometimes there's no good or bad--sometimes things just happen," Jane corrects him, and Bucky has to hold in a snicker at Steve's bafflement. 

She never denies or agrees with any of their statements, which Bucky finds himself begrudgingly used to while Steve seems properly shook by. But when everything’s been spoken that can be, Jane tells them, “From what you’ve both said, I think there's common ground for you both to start on.”

She instructs Bucky and Steve to each make a list of at least 10 strengths they personally add to their relationships--and then, before discussing them with her at the next session, share the lists with each other, adding any extra they both agree on.

“Homework, on top of the exhibit,” Steve sighs dramatically as they leave. And the exhibit is in two days now, Pepper calling nearly hourly about which room, what lighting, what starting price, and so on, it seems like.

“You’ll just procrastinate anyway, like you always did,” Bucky says with a smirk, and his mate wipes it off his face with a kiss.

Two days later, Bucky is tapping at his phone in the foyer of the gallery. It’s opening in an hour, and he’s already checked his messenger, the Platinum archive, and posted on Instagram about all the excitement. So he pulls up ‘Notes’ and stares at the blinking cursor for a few minutes.

_I am loyal_

Weak, but at least not completely untrue.

_I take a dick really well|_

Bucky snorts at himself, though he was only half-joking, and deletes that before typing:

_I have a great sense of humor_

Bucky genuinely tries to think of more, but before he knows it the doors are opening and Steve nervously takes his hand as they enter.

The exhibit is titled, _What Isn’t_ , funded by IPAH, aka Tony and Pepper. Bucky knew it was going to be about freedom and designation, but he doesn’t know now what exactly he’d expected. Big paintings of the American flag with victorious omegas in front of them?

Perhaps the exhibit was named with that expectation in mind, because it’s certainly ‘What isn’t’ that.

Instead, what he sees makes him squirm. Sometimes in a good way, sometimes not. There’s a painting of two laughing girls, titled _Sisters_ , that makes him smile. There’s an untitled pencil sketch of an old woman sitting on her bed in her underthings, her eyes distant. Her knees are scabby and scarred in a way Bucky can only imagine the implications of.

There’s a sculpture of a strange, dripping maroon bed. There’s interactive art all about hands, with strings of red, green and blue tied from fingers to other fingers. Bucky ties a blue string from a pinky finger to another, larger hand's pinky finger, winking at Steve when he notices.

There’s a watercolor piece in the corner of one room, depicting an omega getting mounted by something shadowy and faceless. Bucky looks a long time at that one, then avoids it the rest of the day.

There’s art pieces that look child-like and others beyond mature, paintings that look abstract and others realistic, drawings that come off cartoonish and others freakish. Somehow, they all knit together into one fluid story of connection, pain, and hope.

Bucky draws in a sharp breath when he sees a very realistic-style painting, depicting a young girl getting ripped from her mother’s arms by what can only be two DPF agents. He hears Steve swallow next to him.

“Alright, let’s see yours,” Bucky says, and clears his throat.

“It’s not great--” Steve warns as he leads them, before his mate jabs him in the shoulder.

“It’s a painting of me, of course it’s great.”

The alpha laughs, seeming to ease up a little, right up until they turn the corner into the last room of the gallery and Bucky takes a step back in shock.

He knew it was going to be wide, large. And it’s no mural, like he teased Steve, just not the size Bucky would have chosen to have his face on display.

But he can see why Steve chose it, now. There’s a level of detail afforded in large canvases, little things that catch the eye and make the viewing a feast of an experience. Viewing, in this case, the nuances and intimacies of Bucky’s many faces.

Seven of them, all morphing in shadow from one to the next. Most Bucky doesn’t recognize, must be expressions he never makes near a mirror. There's a neutral one, another kind, another flattering, another silly and endearing--another is harsh and, in Bucky’s opinion, ugly.

But only one of them is completely foreign. Strange in a way Bucky can’t place.

He leaves Steve and approaches the painting slowly, pointing to that face where it is near the beginning and asking, “When do I make that one?”

“You don’t really, anymore,” Steve says in a subdued voice. “Just at first. Like in the examination room when we first saw each other again.”

Bucky drops his hand, all at once feeling cold.

“No wonder you didn’t recognize me,” he whispers to himself.

A wall of warmth presses into him from behind, making Bucky shiver. He catches his alpha’s large hands as they wrap around him, holding them to his rounding belly. All the while, still staring at the endless faces in front of him.

“I love them. They’re all you,” Steve whispers into Bucky’s ear, then leans down to peck a kiss against their bonding mark.

_You decide who you are._

Jane told him that, weeks ago now. And he can’t ever seem to reconcile who he is--the one that loves Steve or was hurt by Alex, the best friend from middle grade or the scared boy from the omega house. 

Can he be all of them? Should he be none of them?

“Ewwwww, PDA guys, seriously,” a voice says behind them, and it’s too annoying to have any other owner.

Bucky nearly jumps from Steve’s arms, staring for a second before plowing his sister down with a, “You just show up on me like that--!?”

Becca just laughs, hugging him back. She smells strong, happy and, as usual, a stronger version of the scent their dad gives off.

“Wait, let me meet them, let me meet them,” Becca squeals, leaning down to rest her head against his abdomen and stroke the sides.

"Becca--"

Becca ignores him. “Hey, you two! Giving daddy any trouble yet? Only the good kind, okay? Kick his bladder as often as you like, just keep cooking. Auntie Becca loves you, baby warts and all. Got it?”

She waits, and when nothing happens, knocks his stomach like it’s a door. “Got it?”

“Becca they’re tiny, there won't be kicking for a long time,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes when she pouts at his stomach.

“Not even for Auntie Becca, guys?”

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Steve interrupts with, and Becca stands up right to give him a quick hug.

“Well you did send the invitation,” she shrugs, smiling.

“As courtesy, Becca, I know you’re way too busy with law school--” Bucky starts, until she pinches two fingers to close his lips.

“No you assumed. How does it go? That's right, ‘to assume is to make an ass out of you and me--”

“Steve! Bucky! The speeches are going to start soon,” Pepper calls, giving a beckoning nod. Becca releases Bucky’s lips with a sigh, and they follow Pepper into the large gathering room.

A few dozen round tables have been set up, most already filled. Tony stands, gesturing to the empty seats at his table--which is of course at the very front, nearest to the small stage and podium--and they all sit together.

He even has a spot for Becca, Bucky realizes, and when he gives her a scrutinizing look as they sit to eat she laughs, “I did RSVP! Just not with you.”

"Hey lover boys!" Sam says, seated across the table. "You going to introduce me?"

Becca and Sam end up hitting it off and talking over any other conversation at the table from art to politics to jobs, until Bucky almost considers giving up his seat so they're not shouting across the table at each other. Tony throws in a humorous comment or two about them both living in D.C and Pepper looks down at her StarkPad the entire time, likely going over her speech.

All of the exhibit is on auction, profit pledged to various charities. Their representatives come up one by one, thanking IPAH for their support and encouraging everyone to make a difference through their purchases.

Pepper goes up last and gives a beautiful speech about how much one thing can do, finishing with, ”So let’s never forget. One person. One idea. One piece of art. Community is important in that it protects the one. We join together today for that reason. One, is all it takes. Thank you.”

Bucky is not surprised at all when Steve’s painting gets one of the highest bids. Despite being plastered with Bucky’s face, he has to admit it shows off his mate’s talent like nothing else probably could have. And, to be frank, it’s quite possible many people here are involved in the omega rights movement, and recognized Steve’s name. Their growing notoriety is still strange to Bucky.

Steve is swarmed by press afterwards, while Becca manages to sneak Bucky away. They end up standing at Steve;s painting again, and he notices for the first time it’s title: _What Is_.

“The exact opposite of the exhibit title,” Becca laughs as he touches the plaque.

“Steve was always a rebel,” he says fondly, and she nods.

“He only got worse without you,” she says, “until our last year of high grade. I don’t know what wisened him up then, but I’m glad it did. He wouldn’t have been a good match for you otherwise.”

“How?” Bucky frowns, turning to fully face her.

Becca gives him a knowing look. “He’s impulsive. Stubborn. Hot-headed. That hasn’t changed. But it got out of control, even if he only swung his punches at the rotten ones. Just glad he never gets out of control with you...?”

Bucky groans--it’s the big sister routine as usual, but it’s getting old at this point. “Never going to happen,” he promises for the umpteenth time.

Becca approaches the painting, closer, and says quietly, “Well, at least I know now he definitely loves you.”

Bucky frowns, scrutinizing at the painting harder. He hadn’t been looking for anything like that. There does seem to be something in the brushstroke style, in the way Steve painted his eyes…

“What do you mean?”

After a moment, Becca whips her head back to look at him, quipping, “How else could he stand to draw your ugly mug that many times?”

God, he's missed her.

Then clicking heels and boots sound behind them, the press finally finding Bucky. They crowd up nearly on all sides, asking him question after question about the painting, the pups, the DPF scandal. Bucky manages not to make a fool of himself for the most part, but he's grateful even when it takes most of Tony and Pepper’s security to finally get them out of there into cabs.

Becca is staying with an old high grade friend, so she kisses Bucky goodbye and promises to visit tomorrow. Bucky nearly collapses when they get home, lets Steve put their stuff away and strip them both before they head to bed.

But, now that he’s laying down, his thoughts won’t quit.

“I started on my list,” he says eventually, and Steve groans into his mate’s chest. “I'm assuming you haven't then? We are meeting with her again in 2 days.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow, promise,” Steve murmurs.

"But tomorrow is your birthday party!"

"Not the whole day, I hope," Steve laughs, and starts pecking kisses up Bucky’s sternum. “What’ve you got on your list so far?”

“That I’m very loyal,” Bucky whispers, growing warm as Steve’s mouth makes its way up his neck. “And I’m great at taking dick.”

Steve jolts in surprise, mouth clamping down hard on their bond mark. Bucky would be laughing at the reaction, if he didn’t nearly have to bite his lip off to keep from shouting. As it is, the stimulation has his cock immediately hard, and every nerve lights on fire.

"Jerk," Steve rasps, clearly affected as well. Bucky doesn't feel an ounce of remorse.

“Can I--?” he asks, suddenly very awake, tugging to show Steve what he wants. He’s gotten much better at that--first, at being able to want anything in the first place, but second, to admit what that is to Steve--and his alpha groans quietly in agreement.

He grinds down on the hard line of Steve's erection, thin boxers the only thing between them. Steve watches with blown out eyes as Bucky shows him how he wants it--stripping off their underwear, with Steve on his back and Bucky sinking slowly down on the alpha's cock, setting the pace himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve whispers, stroking every inch of Bucky as he moves up and down.

Bucky, in this one moment, decides to believe him. He decides that everything he has right now is truly his. He decides to forget what Alex would be calling him if he saw him, and focus on how he feels.

Steve doesn’t say anything else--he’s quiet in bed, for the most part, unlike Alex--but his eyes never stray from Bucky. They’re filled with something pure, soft and true.

Steve _wants_ him. He wants _him_.

That’s enough.

 

* * *

 

 

**[Excerpt from thehelenshow, watch more content on https://www.helentube.com]**

 

**Helen: How did you realize it was him?**

**Bucky: Well...I think a tiny part of me knew already.**

**Steve: What?**

**[The audience ‘ooooo’s’.]**

**Bucky: Not consciously, just. I trusted you more than I wanted to. I couldn’t help it, and I think that’s why.**

**Helen: Is this the first time you’ve heard this?**

**Steve: Um. Yeah.**

**Bucky: I didn’t recognize that until he called me Bucky.**

**Steve: His given name is James.**

**Bucky: Right. No one knew my nickname except the people from my former life, and until then I didn’t even realize he was one of them.**

**[They hold hands, and the audience ‘awww’s and cheers.]**

**Helen: I think ‘BadAO’ isn’t cute enough for you two now. Wow. What did you do, Bucky?**

**Bucky: [turns to Steve.] What did I do?**

**Steve: When I told you who I was? Well we hugged, of course.**

**Bucky: It made us closer.**

**Steve: Yeah. But it wasn’t like...I don’t know. It didn’t just change everything. We had a lot to figure out-- _have_ a lot to figure out, still. I’m still technically, by law, his owner practically. In the eyes of society, we’re not equal. And that’s wrong.**

**Helen: You’re right--although a lot of alphas are going to argue with you on that.**

**Bucky: We’ve all been raised to see things a certain way. To classify each other based on our designation. I agree alphas have been placed in the biggest position of power, but I don’t like the whole--whole, pointing fingers thing.**

**[Sighs, glancing at Steve then down at his feet.]**

**Just, just--everyone’s out to blame each other, and. It’s not helping, you know? Some people are blaming our biology for how things are, or demonizing a certain political party, or saying alphas are the bad guys. I just.**

**[He raises his head, looking at the audience.]**

**I don’t care. I don’t care who started it, who or what was responsible for this mess, or anything like that. Because we’re all here living in it together anyway, okay? All that matters is who takes it upon themselves to _stop it_.**

**[Silence, then the audience breaks into cheering and applause, most stand up. Bucky blushes, and looks down, Helen and Steve grinning from ear to ear.]**

**Steve: God I love you.**

**[Continuous cheering and applause as Steve and Bucky look at each other.]**

**Helen: Alright, you guys got me, I have to--(stands up from her seat, starts clapping too.)**

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky finishes his first draft of the still-nameless autobiography, he gives it to three people: Tony, because he gave him the idea to begin with, Becca, because he doesn’t know if he could face telling her everything out loud, and Steve. Because, well, _Steve_.

“That’s the ending?!”

Steve shoots him a betrayed look from the sofa. Bucky’s not even a real room away, fixing something up for lunch, but luckily the shouting is toned hysterically enough to not trigger anything in him. He just rolls his eyes and dumps in the pasta.

“ Bucky ,” Steve says, advancing to lean over their small bar.

“It is for now?” Bucky puts his hands up in surrender. “If I kept going, I’d be telling the future.”

Steve stares at him, before continuing, “But the last line, ‘Do I know who I am’? That’s plain cruel, Bucky.”

“Just like all the books you told me to read,” Bucky reminds, and throws a rag that Steve catches--but still gets splashed in the face by.

Bucky laughs at his mate blinking out the water, who growls playfully. An undignified yelp escapes when Steve crowds into him, Bucky struggling to get away before the alpha can manage to wipe the rag through his hair.

Bucky would have stood a chance if he hadn’t been laughing so hard.

“NoooooOOO,” he groans, cringing from the wetness, and Steve makes a noise of triumph. He throws the rag into the sink, hoists Bucky up onto the counter, and proceeds to kiss him senseless.

“I gave you--that rag--to wipe the table--punk,” Bucky manages in gasps as Steve kisses under his ear.

“We could do something else with that table,” he murmurs suggestively, and Bucky lets out a strange noise he would never admit to being a giggle.

“Yeah?” Bucky says, and to his surprise Steve groans and pulls back with a frown.

“The appointment is in an hour,” he sighs, and with a pout helps Bucky back to the ground. “And I’ve got to write that dumb list. And we’ve got to eat lunch.”

"Fine. But don't think I'll forget that comment about the table," Bucky says with a pointed look.

Steve is glaring at an empty piece of paper when lunch is ready.

"We've got leftover cake still," Bucky mentions, but it does little to placate the alpha.

"I thought a birthday party would be bad," he grumbles, throwing his pen down. "Writing a list of _qualities_ about myself?"

"Here, I've got mine I'm supposed to share with you," Bucky says around his pasta, fishing for his phone in his back pocket.

"Perfect! I'll just copycat," Steve says, to which Bucky gives him an unimpressed look.

Once the list is open he reads, "I'm loyal, I have a great sense of humor, I can cook quite a few edible meals--"

"Can't copy you on that one," Steve laughs sheepishly.

"--I can read fast, I'm tidy, I keep myself fit--usually, this pregnancy thing doesn't count, Steve--I can learn quick, I've gotten pretty good at Instagram..."

Bucky trailed off, distracted by the incredulous look Steve was giving him. For a stupid, panicked second, the forever scared part of him came out of its corner, yelling WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE THERE'S NOTHING GOOD ABOUT YOU--

Then Bucky grits his teeth and shuts it down. 

"What is it, Steve?" he asks, consciously stopping himself from tensing at the answer.

"Oh, nothing, just..." Steve shoots him a lopsided smile. "You're not even scratching the surface, Buck."

Steve 12, scared brain, 0.

"At least I wrote something," Bucky grouses, going back to his lunch. Though he can't help the warm feeling spreading inside, or the fondness seizing his heart watching Steve scribble down something finally with concentration, a corner of his tongue peeking out.

“Becca invited us to go down with her to D.C. after you blew out the cake, by the way,” Bucky says once he's polished off his spaghetti.

Becca's spent the past two days visiting, though yesterday she spent most of the party chatting away with Sam. Bucky hasn't even stopped missing her, and her bus leaves the next morning. “

"It’d be last minute, but. Some local IPAH members organized a march for the new OPA bill's last day with the Senate tomorrow, July 3rd, and it’s blowing up.”

“Wait, what’s blown up?” Steve says in alarm, face snapping up.

Bucky sighs. “The march? In D.C.? Metaphorically speaking, not literally--thousands of people are committed to going.”

Steve's face clears in understanding, then turns mischievous. “Hmm. I don't know. Do you have ‘reckless’ on your list?”

“Do you?”

Steve opens his mouth, then concedes the point. “Touche.”

“Becca, Sam, Natasha and Clint are all going to be there,” Bucky adds. “I say let’s do it.”

“How about ‘fearless’? ‘Courageous’? ‘Handsome’?” Steve suggests with a smirk.

“How about ‘ready for some change’? Can that be a strength?”

Steve’s smile softens from playful to endearing, and he grabs Bucky’s hand across the table. “Yeah. I think so.”

They stand and Bucky grabs last minute things before the appointment, Steve waiting at the door for him with a triumphant smile and his list in hand. Bucky grabs the other hand, interlacing it with his and asking, "Ready?"

Steve's face softens. "For anything, with you right here."

“Me too," Bucky finds himself admitting. "I mean, I ended my story with where I'm at, right now, that wasn’t just poetic. But...I think I'm starting to figure it out."

He steps in front of Steve, pressing a short, gentle kiss against his mate's mouth. Steve immediately pulls him closer, sighing, and for a minute they just stand there, silent.

Bucky leans back only when he knows they'll be late. "I can, when I'm with you," he says, willing Steve to understand. "I think...I think, we both can.”

“And once we’re through with that, we’ll need to help two little pups figure out who they are, too,” Steve points out, squeezing his hand gently.

“Sounds like a lot of time,” Bucky says.

Steve laughs, “Sounds like a lifetime.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Senaterally.jpg**

**(3,471 likes)**  
**brooklynboys: Just a casual walk around Congress yesterday with a few thousand of my closest friends. Steve is sporting one of our new fav t-shirt’s ordered at https://ipresentashuman.com/store , all proceeds of which go toward advertising and campaigning for The Omega Protection Act Removal (see link). I ordered Steve a size too small totally on accident of course #IPresentAsHuman #IPAH #equalrights #badao #OPARemoval #hotalphaalert #DCmarch2K17 #brooklynboys #letsdothistogether**

**COMMENTS**

**pringlelove: god bless america *fans self***

**therealtonystark: Badao at it again**

**omegachangetm: uggghhhh you two kill me, please visit Atlanta!**

**fosho360: suck my dick omega bitch!!!**

**clintastic: I could be the b in that abo sandwich**

**melanieb: you inspire me @brooklynboys I wish I could be there**

**heteropet: Your pup bump is soooooooo cute, so happy for you and Steve!!!!!!!!**

**doctorhoo: Heeyyyy we’re in the background guys!!! @nessanite @puppypunch2 @marvellestan**

**queensteena: “Time to (re)present for omegas, America, I already have”? Whipped alpha if I ever saw one. Your movement is out to neuter the very ones trying most to protect you. Don't be surprised when you get taught a lesson by a real alpha one of these days and yours is too much of a pussy to stop them.**

**ettubrute: Thanks for signing my hat yesterday!! #badAO**

**katkat21: My alpha didn’t understand till he watched your interview on Helen. You two have literally changed my life. God Bless! <3 <3 <3**

**imagineligers: Wow I get scared about the future sometimes, and then I see stuff like this. Thank you for your continually inspiring, wholesome feed @brooklynboys! You’re right. We CAN do this.**

**(1,341 more)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's a wrap! Sorry about the wait. Still, lots of loose ends and un-concluded story arcs...how you know it was written by me!
> 
> I might have one more story to tell in this universe? Maybe in another 2 years? Haha. We'll see.
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone :)


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